The Fall of the House of the USSR
by AnotherConstellationDies.x
Summary: This, he eventually supposed, was what he was, and he couldn't do anything to change it. And he hated it, because it had driven away everyone he had ever loved, and it was no one's fault but his own.
1. Lithuania

**So. I'm writing Hetalia fics now, apparently. **

**This is...I don't really know. I wanted to explore the whole idea of everyone leaving Ivan, and how it would affect him. Unfortunately, some characters will be rather OOC (feliks and ivan) though I tried my best. **

**WARNING: This is not historically accurate. in real life, estonia gained independence first, with lithuania and latvia some time later, but i didn't really see it happening that way. apologies if this annoys some people. **

**ANOTHER WARNING: this is...pretty grisly. it's rated M for a reason...you know, Ivan's being Ivan, and all that. and toris falls unconcious far too often :) to clarify: rated M for language, violence (much of it pipe related) and sexual content, but that isn't too graphic.  
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**this will only have a few chapters, and unfortunately this is the longest one, sorry for that. BUT the others are substantially longer than ones i write for other fics, so that's good, i suppose. **

**PLEASE tell me what you think. this is my first time writing anything baguely worthy of an M rating...i want to know if i've failed horribly or not. **

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**Lithuania - 6****th**** September 1991**

There was a hand around his neck, and his back was pressed up against the wall.

Two dangerous, terrifying eyes loomed in front of his face.

"You love me, don't you, Toris." It wasn't a question, and Toris knew he desperately needed to give a response, but he couldn't bring himself to speak, or even open his mouth. He just nodded fearfully. "You're never going to leave me, are you, Toris." Toris shook his head, and suddenly the grip on his neck became tighter. "Are you sure about that, Toris?" Toris nodded again, his hands coming up to try and pry away the hand clamped to his throat. He was feeling dizzy, and he was wondering why he could see four eyes in front of him instead of just two.

Suddenly the hand let go and Toris slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. "Good boy, Toris. Good boy." Ivan crouched down next to him, looking at him with a cheerful smile. "And don't forget, dearest, that if you try and leave me, I will find you, and I will bring you back." Toris watched him with cautious eyes. "Because I love you, Toris. And I never want to be without you." He suddenly pressed a kiss to the top of Toris' head, and he left, humming tunelessly. When the heavy door closed behind him, Toris let out a shuddering breath, and he brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them close. He didn't realise he was crying until he felt a hot wetness against his cheeks. He lifted a hand to brush them away, and when he brought his hand away, it was red, covered in his own blood. He buried his fingers into his hair until he encountered a swelling, and the blood had started to matt his hair. To think that Ivan had done this, and so much more, all under the pretence of loving him, it was too much for Toris to bear.

He sobbed into the quiet room, unaware that Ivan was still stood on the other side of the door. He heard Toris' sobs, and smiled, before making his way down the corridor.

"Raivis?" Eduard whispered. "Is he gone?"

Raivis peeked around the corner and nodded. "Coast is clear." Eduard strode past him and went up to the door Toris was behind.

"Toris?" Eduard whispered, laying a hand against the wood, as if he were reaching out to him. "Toris, can you hear me? It's Eduard."

Toris looked up in the direction of the door, and wiped his eyes with his hand. "Eduard?"

"Yes, it's me. Can we come in?"

"We?" Toris asked, panicked.

"Yes. Me and Raivis."

"I'm here too, Toris." Toris almost smiled at Raivis' innocent voice.

"Yes, you can come in."

The door opened, letting in with it a flood of light. Light landed on Toris, and Eduard flinched, without being able to help himself. To Toris, this was nothing new. He knew he looked a state.

"How bad is it?" He asked quietly.

"It's…" Eduard walked over to him, and grasped his hand gently, helping him stand. He led him over to the mirror on the other side of the room, and when Toris saw himself, he let out a tearful sob.

He had a black eye, so swollen that the eye was nearly closed. There were bruises blooming on his jaw, violently purple, black and blue. There was a streak of red in his hair, the sticky dried blood making Toris want to look away, but he held his own gaze. There were definite bruises around his neck, finger shaped, and Toris let out a shuddering breath. His lips were swollen and kiss bruised, and the top button of his shirt had been torn off. There was a small puncture wound where Ivan had sunk his teeth into Toris' neck.

For the second time, Toris felt the tears flowing down his cheeks, as well as seeing it in the mirror. He looked utterly beaten, broken and defeated. Toris sunk down to his knees, his head buried in his hands as he sobbed. Raivis came and gently placed his arm around Toris' shoulders, and for several minutes they remained that way, until suddenly, a large silhouette blocked out most of the light coming through the doorframe. Eduard turned to see who it was, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

Ivan was stood there, a pleasant, terrifying smile on his face. "Ah, here you all are!"

_As if we would have been anywhere else_, Eduard thought to himself. Ivan smiled on. "I've just come to tell you all that we're having company tomorrow morning! My good friend is coming around. I'm trying to persuade him to become one with Mother Russia." He grinned, and Raivis flinched, though thankfully Ivan didn't notice. "And I want you three to stay out of sight, da? So we don't scare him away!" He chuckled lightly, though Eduard knew the real reason that Ivan didn't want the guest to see the three of them. It was so he wouldn't see Toris, bruised and battered, and realise just how cruel and sadistic Ivan was. "Well, have a good night!" Ivan called brightly, and left them. Suddenly, before the door could even close, there was another figure in the doorway.

It was Belarus, Natalia, and she was grinning eerily, her light eyes glowing in the dark. "If you mess up my brother's plans by showing your pathetic little faces tomorrow, you'll have me to answer to, as well as him. And we know what happens when I get angry, don't we, Toris."

Toris glanced down at his twisted, scarred fingers and nodded fearfully, and he let out a shaky breath when she left them.

"Don't worry, Toris." Raivis said gently. "We'll look after you, okay? Let's get you to bed."

Toris gratefully let himself be led over to the bed, where he curled up under the covers without even taking any clothes off. Eduard and Raivis watched him for a few moments, before they closed the door behind them, leaving Toris to a fitful sleep.

When Toris awoke, there was a pounding pain in the side of his head, and he sat up slowly, gingerly fingering the cut, wincing as he felt the knotted hair, matted by blood. He slipped into his adjoining bathroom, intent on having a shower. He locked the door behind him, because he was constantly scared that Russia would decide to join him again. After he had turned on the shower, and he could barely hear his thoughts under the hiss of water, he removed his shirt with shaking fingers, and when he saw himself in the mirror, his fingers went slack and the shirt dropped to the ground. His front was covered in bruises and scars. He could easily see his ribs, he was malnourished, dehydrated. He was a wreck. He didn't even hazard a look at his back, and he quickly undressed and stepped into the shower. Of course, the water stung his open wounds, the blisters and welts caused by a length of metal pipe. It hurt, but the force of the water massaged his muscles, and for just a few minutes, he allowed himself to relax. When he washed his hair, he watched the blood run down the side of his body, before disappearing down the plughole. _A new day, _he thought. _A new day, with no blood. A clean start. _He was almost hopeful that today would be better than the day before had been.

Together with Eduard and Raivis, he ate breakfast in the kitchens, quickly and quietly. They all finished before Ivan or Natalia appeared. They were sat in a living room, when Ukraine, more commonly known as Katyusha, poked her head around the door. "I'd advise that you all get upstairs…Ivan's guest just got here."

They nodded and rushed upstairs and into Raivis' room, lest they incur Russia's wrath. Peering behind a curtain out of the window, Eduard and Raivis watched Ivan's guest arrive.

"Oh, it's him!" Raivis said.

"He's familiar. I can't place him, though." Eduard turned to Toris. "See if you recognise him."

Toris shook his head from his place on Raivis' bed. "I don't want to. Ivan might see us in here, and come up and-" his face paled, before he cleared his throat and quickly shook his head. "Just…come and sit down. Do you have a pack of cards, Raivis?"

Raivis nodded, and ran to his bedside table to get them. For most of the morning they played. Eduard won most of the games, and it was evident that he was the best player.

By lunchtime, Toris could hear his stomach growling. "I'm starving." He murmured. "Do you think we could ask Katyusha to make us some lunch?"

Eduard shook his head. "If the guest saw her bringing up three plates of food, he'd get suspicious."

Toris had to admit that Eduard was right, and they played on a little longer. Half way through a game of blackjack, and Toris realised he was shivering. "It's so cold in here, Raivis! How do you stand it?"

Raivis shrugged and nodded to the mountain of blankets on his bed. "Usually I just bury myself under there."

Toris wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to get warm. "I'm going to get a jumper from my room. I'll be back soon."

"Be careful." Eduard said, and Toris nodded. Carefully, he crept out of Raivis' room, and went as quietly as he could in the direction of his own room.

Toris' bedroom was on the other side of the house to Eduard and Raivis'. It was very near to Ivan's bedroom, and the reason for the positioning of Toris' room was obvious. To get to his bedroom, however, Toris would have to pass the grand staircase, the one that had a balcony running around it. Anyone who were to venture into the entrance hall would easily see Toris pass.

However, this thought didn't occur to Toris as he walked along. It was only when he heard a gasp from the bottom of the stairs, a gasp that was definitely not from Ivan, Katyusha or Natalia. He turned slowly, to see who was standing at the bottom of the stairs.

When he saw who was there, he drew in a ragged breath, covering his mouth with a pale, scarred hand. They stared at each other for several minutes, before Toris found his voice. In a whisper, one full of disbelief and shock, he said, "Feliks?"

And it was. It was Feliks. The one person that Toris was sure he would never see again. Feliks. He was here. And staring at Toris and his disfigured face with something akin to horror. Before Feliks could say anything, Toris had ran across the corridor and stumbled into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He stood there for several seconds, breathing heavily. He ran a shaking hand over his face, wincing when he inadvertently pressed his swollen eye. Suddenly there was a knocking on his door and he jumped a foot in the air, letting out a sob without really meaning to. "Toris? Like, are you in there?" Toris relaxed when he knew it wasn't Ivan. He didn't know why he thought it had been, Ivan was never one to knock.

"Toris? Please, open the door."

"No." Toris said quietly, his voice distorted and thick with tears. "You're not meant to see me. Please, go downstairs before Ivan notices you've gone."

"Toris." Feliks was almost pleading.

"No, Feliks." Toris said, letting out a ragged breath. "Please. Go away." There was no response, but Toris knew Feliks was still there. "Please, Feliks. Get away from here, before you get hurt." He heard Feliks' retreating footsteps and sighed.

He steeled himself, determined not to break down. He grabbed the jumper he had come for, and ran back to Raivis' room, slamming the door behind him.

"He saw me." He said quietly, and Raivis dropped the cards he was holding.

"He did? Oh no, what did he do? Did he hurt you?"

Toris shook his head. "Not Ivan. Feliks." He watched the comprehension dawn on their faces. Suddenly he felt anger boil up inside him. "It's Feliks down there!" He cried. "Why? Why in god's name does Ivan have to choose Feliks? He trying to persuade _Feliks_ to become one with Russia! He can't have Feliks! He just can't!" The tears were coming again, but this time they were silent, and he let them fall as he stared at the floor. He briefly wondered if Ivan had heard his outburst through the floorboards.

Ivan's smile widened as the smaller nation slipped back into the room. "Ahh, Feliks, you've returned. I trust you found the bathroom alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I, like, found it alright." Looking slightly distracted, he took his seat on the sofa opposite Ivan.

"Anyway." Ivan began, a gentle smile on his face. "As I was saying, there will be numerous benefits for the both of us, if you became one with Russia. I can help you out financially, and provide you with military aid, should you require it. I really can't see a downside."

"I, err…" Feliks began, unusually awkward. "Which other countries have, like…become one with Russia?"

Ivan looked surprised by the question, before he smiled again. "There's my sisters, Belarus and Ukraine. And there's also Estonia and Latvia."

"What about-" Feliks began, and hastily silenced himself. "Never mind. You have, like, an awesome house." He said, after a few minutes of awkward silence.

"You like it?" Ivan said, smiling. "I'm so glad. After all. If you accept, you could be living here."

_And what?_ Feliks thought. _Get beat up like Lithuania? Not a chance in hell! Ivan, you're a monster. If only I had an army big enough to take you on. I'd destroy you for what you did to Toris. I'm going to help you, Toris. Any way I can._

"I'm sorry." Feliks blurted out. "But I, like, simply can't become one with you. I'm a totally important trading partner with a lot of other countries…I'd, like, lose all that if I joined you."

Ivan's face fell, and for about half a second he glared at him with a fury that Feliks didn't know the tall nation possessed. The glare was almost over before it began, before it was replaced by a sad smile. "If that's how you feel, Feliks Łukasiewicz. It'll be such a shame, to not have you live here. Still. I suppose I can't force you." There was a glint in his eyes that told Feliks he was perfectly capable of forcing him. After a brief pause, Ivan spoke again, addressing Feliks in that strange way that he did, calling a person by their full name, instead of just their first. Feliks always felt uneasy at the sound of his surname coming from Ivan's mouth. It sounded so strange, so abnormal. "It's been nice seeing you, Feliks Łukasiewicz. I trust you can find your own way out?"

Feliks nodded and hurriedly left, but not before casting one look up the stairs, to see if he could see Toris again. How he wanted to be able to take him away from here, but he knew that while Ivan and his deranged sister were still around, it was impossible.

Upstairs, in Raivis' room, they heard Feliks' car drive away.

They also heard Ivan's heavy foot steps on the stairs, and suddenly the door to Raivis' room crashed open, and he was stood there, the smile absent from his face. He strode over to the three of them and grabbed Toris by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him violently to his feet. Without a word, he dragged him out of the room and along the corridor into his own bedroom. Toris was thrown onto Ivan's vast double bed, and he could only watch with terrified eyes as Ivan closed the door and locked it behind him.

"Things did not go to plan." Ivan said, his smile sinister. "And I need cheering up. Come now, Toris, will you cheer me up?" Toris had no time to answer because Ivan had strode up to him and grabbed his chin, ignoring Toris' flinch as he pressed down on the bruises along Toris' jaw. He crushed their lips together, the grip on Toris' face never lessening.

And that was always how it was, when Ivan took Toris to his room. It was always pain, and hurt, and obscene words whispered into Toris' ear. It was always the bruising of Toris' skin, and Ivan's sinister, breathless laughter. It was also Ivan taking from Toris, never giving. It was always like this, so why did Toris cry every time? Why wasn't he immune to Ivan's bruising grip, or his vicious smile and unnatural violet eyes? Why did Toris cry? He didn't know, but it provided endless entertainment for Ivan.

"That's it." Ivan said, leering at Toris. His hair was ruffled, his cheeks flushed, and he was grinning down at the brown haired nation underneath him. "Why aren't you crying, Toris?" He thrust particularly hard, and Toris let out a whimper. "I want to see you crying, Toris." He grabbed Toris' arm in a bruising grip, but he was slightly disappointed to see no tears leak from Toris' eyes. He placed his hand over one of the welts on Toris' stomach. With a tug of skin, the wound was torn back open, and dark red blood started to seep down Toris' side. He let out a cry of pain, and with that, the tears could be seen glistening in Toris' eyes. "That's it, Toris. My god, that's it!" He began muttering hastily in Russian, his arms trembling, and with a burst of colour behind his eyelids, Ivan let out a shuddering breath, as everything that had built up was suddenly let go again. He rolled to Toris' side, breathing heavily, and smiling, as he always did. "Wasn't that _fun_." He looked to Toris for a response, only to see that Toris had his eyes closed and was lying quite still, unconscious. Ivan just grinned.

When Toris awoke in the morning, he was still in Ivan's bed. His clothes were in a heap on the other side of the room. He half expected to be handcuffed to the bed, but then again, he never knew what to expect from Ivan. He wondered as to the time, but the way the light streaming in from outside was so pale, he guessed it couldn't be more than eight o' clock. He couldn't hear any of the normal morning bustle, and when he rolled over he nearly screamed. Ivan was still in bed with him, sleeping peacefully, a serene smile on his lips.

No one got out of bed before Ivan. Even if Toris were to try and wake up early, he would descend the stairs to find Ivan already up and about. But _now…_maybe this was Toris' chance. He crept out of bed, ignoring the pain that rattled around his thin frame, and pulled on his clothes. He found the key to the door in Ivan's coat pocket, and once he had unlocked and opened the door, he cast one last glance at Ivan. And with that, he was gone.

Of course, Toris didn't get far. He had gotten as far as the front gates when he heard a door slam. He froze, spinning around to see if anyone was after him. There was silence for a while, before he heard Ivan roar. "Where in the hell is he!"

And suddenly, Natalia's pretty face appeared in her bedroom window, looking straight at him. She sneered at him, and it quickly changed into a grin. She was speaking too quietly for Toris to hear her. Had he been inside, he would have heard her say, "He's by the front gates, he can't get out. Brother, will you let me break his fingers again?"

And all of a sudden, Ivan was in the doorway, striding towards him, carrying what looked like -

"Oh, no." Toris whispered. "Ivan, please! I'm sorry! Please, Ivan, please don't-" Ivan ignored his cries and raised the pipe above his head and swung it at Toris. It hit him soundly in the side of the head, and Toris blacked out, and fell to the floor, blood flowing steadily from his ear.

_I'm dead. This is it. I'm dead, and this is the afterlife. It isn't Heaven. It must be Hell. I've done so much to deserve it, after all. It's quieter than I would expect. Darker, too. It feels like there's only me here. I can't move. Is that normal? Maybe it is, I don't know. But…should being dead hurt this much? I didn't think it did. _

Slowly, extremely and excruciatingly slowly, Toris began to realise that he was not dead, and that he was instead in the cellar of Ivan's house. Oh yes, Toris remembered this room. It was the one with the chains on the walls. He couldn't tell if his eyes were opened or closed, as he tried to find any sort of light source. There was none.

Toris was breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his ears. He was shivering from the cold, but he was far too warm at the same time. He didn't know what was going on, and tried to pull his hands from the manacles they were strapped to. Had he been calmer, and the rush of blood through his veins hadn't seemed so loud to him, he might have heard something else, someone else.

And suddenly, there was a hand clenched around his throat. He screamed, and he kept screaming, like he didn't have to stop for breath, because Ivan had been in the room the whole time.

When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous, and Toris could tell that Ivan wasn't smiling, for once. "Didn't I say, Toris, that if you were to leave, I would find you, and I would bring you back." The hand tightened, and Toris began to gasp frantically for air.

Suddenly, Ivan let go, and shifted to the side. How he could see in the dark, Toris didn't know. He felt Ivan's fingers on the manacles holding his hands, and with two clicks they opened and his hands fell to his sides. He looked around cautiously, unaware as to where Ivan was. Suddenly Ivan had grabbed him by his hair and had thrown him down onto the ground. "Didn't I say, Toris!" Ivan yelled. "Didn't I say! I would find you! I would bring you back!" A heavy boot collided with Toris' side, and he yelped in pain. "How dare you!" Ivan cried, raining kicks upon his sides and his back. "How dare you leave me, after everything I've done for you! You're just a spoilt, selfish, _ungrateful _little child. Did you actually think you could get away from me?" He laughed bitterly into the darkness. Toris lay, curled up into a ball, his fingers searching his body for any bleeding. "For once in your life, stop crying!" Toris hadn't realised it, but uncomfortably hot tears were streaming down his face, and for a good few minutes he had been sobbing quietly. He felt Ivan put his foot on his stomach, pressing down gently. When he spoke, his voice was much quieter, but no less terrifying. "Don't you understand? I can't let you go, Toris, not ever! I love you…you mean too much to me…I am never going to let you go!"

"No!" Toris suddenly cried. "No! This isn't what I want!"

The boot on his stomach suddenly pressed down a lot harder, and Toris gasped. "It doesn't matter what _you _want."

Toris chose to ignore this. "I don't want you!" He shouted it, but he had no idea how loud his voice was. "I don't want you, I never have! Whenever you touch me, I'm repulsed! You make me hate myself, you make me feel sick when I look at myself in the mirror! And when you drag me to your bed, I want to die, because death, and an eternity in Hell would be better than watching you take everything I have, leaving me with nothing! I hate you! I _hate you!_" The pressure of Ivan's boot from his stomach vanished, and Toris could vaguely hear what sounded like Ivan stumbling a few steps back. And suddenly there was pain in the side of his head, a perfectly aimed hit from the toe of Ivan's steel toed boot, and Toris fell into unconsciousness.

"He's going to kill us, Eduard."

"I know, Raivis, just shut up for a minute!"

"We shouldn't have done it, it'll be us next!"

"Raivis! Be quiet, please!"

Raivis fell silent.

"I think his fingers should heal alright."

"She didn't break all of them, did she?"

"Not the thumbs."

Toris opened his eyes. He was in his bedroom, and Eduard and Raivis were stood, leaning over him with matching concerned expressions. "Toris!" Raivis breathed. "You're awake!"

Toris opened his mouth, but his throat was sore, and he caught sight of a glass of water on his bedside table. Eduard saw him looking and fetched it for him. "Raivis? A little help?"

"Oh yeah, of course." He rushed forwards and hooked his arms around Toris' back, and lifted him into a sitting position, so he could take a drink from the cup that Eduard was holding to his lips. The water was cool and refreshing, and when the cup had been replaced and he had been lowered back down, he managed the tiniest smile, but to Eduard and Raivis it was extraordinary. They couldn't remember the last time Toris had smiled.

"Where is he?" Toris whispered, his voice quiet and hoarse. There was excruciating pain pounding all over him, in his fingers, his waist, his head, everywhere, but he tried to ignore it as best he could.

"At a meeting. He won't be back until the afternoon. And Katyusha's taken _her _out of the house…you're safe."

"He just left? Wouldn't he think I could…could just…"

Eduard and Raivis shared a glance that Toris didn't like. Eventually Raivis spoke. "He thinks you're still in the cellar, Toris. When he left you were there, but Eduard found a key and we brought you back up here."

Toris' face went white. "He's going to kill me. He's going to kill you, too! Please, put me back down there, please."

Eduard shook his head. "No. You need medical attention, Toris. You're really badly hurt."

"No I'm not, really! Please get me back down there before he comes back!"

"No!" Eduard suddenly shouted. "Don't you understand how hurt you are? A black eye, severe bruising all over your body, horrible welts all over your back, at least two broken ribs and eight broken fingers! And you nearly died from loss of blood! I've been working all night to make sure you didn't die! Now please, Toris. You're seriously hurt. I have to make sure you're treated properly."

"At least…" Toris' voice had dropped to a whisper. "At least…bandage me up, and then put me back down there. We have to keep him happy."

Eduard was confused. "He'll know you've been out. He'll be furious."

Toris shook his head. "Because I stayed…because I didn't escape when I had the chance…he'll think he taught me a lesson. By going back there, he'll think I've realised there's no hope of an escape." He looked at Raivis, who was evidently confused. "Don't you see? He doesn't care if I'm covered in bandages. Just me being there, that's all that will matter to him. if I don't escape, he'll think…he means something to me." His lip curled at his own words.

Eduard clearly wasn't appeased. "But he might-"

"I don't care what he does! He can't take anything else from me, he's got it all. Please. Just…just do this for me."

Eduard sighed, and eventually he nodded.

While Toris had been unconscious, Eduard had strapped his fingers together so they could start their healing process. All he needed to do was bandage his waist, to treat his broken ribs, and see to the bruises dotting Toris' body.

Eventually, after having many salves and ointments applied, Eduard had done as much as he could do.

"Come on." He murmured. "Let's get you some food."

"But-" Toris began.

"But nothing. He'll be gone all day. You've got time."

Toris eventually nodded. "Will you help me get up?" He asked quietly, ashamed of how little he could do for himself.

"Of course." Raivis said quietly. He helped him sit up, and turn so his legs were dangling off the side of the bed. He wrapped and arm around his waist, as did Eduard, and together they gingerly placed Toris on his feet. "Okay?" Raivis whispered.

Toris nodded, out of breath already, and gently Raivis and Eduard removed their hands. Toris stood still for a moment, but when he tried to take a tiny step he swayed dangerously and nearly fell onto Raivis, had the small boy not caught him in time. "Take it slowly, Toris." He said as he placed him upright again. "We'll help you, okay?" Toris nodded, trying to catch his breath.

And so, rather clumsily and awkwardly, with Raivis and Eduard at either side of him, Toris eventually made it into the kitchen, where he collapsed, out of breath and exhausted, into a chair. "You did well, Toris." Eduard said softly. "What would you like to eat?"

"Anything, thank you."

Five minutes later, a thick potato soup was set in front of him, and despite Toris' pain, he couldn't deny how nice it smelt. "Thank you, Eduard." He said as he ate. "Raivis, you too. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you." And they both just smiled, because that was about all they could do, but for Toris it was enough. For Toris, it was more than enough. He knew how much, or how little, in his case, he deserved. It shamed him to think that his friends had to go to so much effort to look after him. What about their needs? Just because he was Ivan's favourite, and he left the other two alone, it didn't mean they didn't get hurt, or lonely, or upset. It shamed him to think that the both of them worked so hard to help him. What was he doing in return?

The happiness that had almost been present in Toris' heart quickly faded.

When it was the early afternoon, Toris realised they should be safe rather than sorry, and that he needed to get back down to the cellar. Begrudgingly, Raivis and Eduard helped him down the stairs, into the darkness.

"Can't we put a light on?" Raivis asked.

"We could." Eduard mumbled. "If we knew where any of the lights were." From the top of the stairs, the light flooded in. They were stood in the corridor at the bottom of the steps, surveying three identical doors.

"Which one was it?" Toris asked, rather fearfully.

"This one." Raivis said, gesturing to the nearest door. With a push, the heavy steel door swung open, revealing nothing but darkness. "Well, I…" He said after a silence. "There's got to be a light here somewhere." He ran his fingers along the area of wall nearest the door until his fingers came into contact with something. "Aha!" He groped for the switch, flicked it, and the cellar was bathed in dim light. Almost as soon as the light came on, Toris wished it hadn't.

The room wasn't furnished, there was no wallpaper or any carpet. The only thing in this room was a small, almost unnoticeable drain in the corner, like one might find in a bath tub. But this wasn't what horrified Raivis and Eduard. No. In the middle of the room, as clear as day, was a shallow pool of something dark red. "That's…" Raivis said, his eyes wide, his face pale.

"Yes." Toris said, knowing what he was going to say.

"We have to get rid of it." Raivis muttered, going on odd shade of green.

"No!" Toris said, making the both of them jump. "I can't ask you to clean up my own blood. Just leave it. I'll sit in a corner. I'll be fine, promise."

Suddenly, in the distance, almost too dim that they couldn't hear it, they heard the sounds of a car, Ivan's car, roll into the drive. He was home from his meeting, and there were matching expressions of terror on all of the faces of the Baltic countries. "Quickly!" Toris said, and they helped him inside, and lowered him to the ground.

He watched as Eduard and Raivis retreated to the door. Raivis gave a small wave as Eduard turned of the light with a mournful expression, and then the door was shut, and Toris flinched as he heard the key turn in the lock. He could only pray that Estonia and Latvia got out of the way before Ivan found them.

A few minutes passed in the silence. Toris felt like the darkness was pressing down on him, smothering him, drowning him. He was beginning to feel rather claustrophobic when suddenly there were footsteps on the stairs. There was a key in the lock. There was a creak as the door opened slowly, and Toris, despite his terror and pain, found the courage to scowl up at the man who had hurt him for so long.

Ivan was stood there, without a smile, without a frown. He was expressionless, he just stood there, his hand still resting on the door handle. Suddenly it slipped and fell to his side. "You're still here." He said in an unusually quiet voice. "You didn't leave me. You're still here." Toris continued to scowl at him, even as Ivan approached him, just a silhouette against the weak light from the corridor. And suddenly, Ivan had grabbed his shoulders, hoisted him upright, and pulled him into a tight hug.

"You didn't leave me." He breathed. He planted a kiss on Toris' cheek, perhaps the gentlest he ever had, but it caused Toris to stiffen all the same. Ivan noticed this, and let his arms drop to his sides. Toris, without anyone to help him stand, swayed dangerously and would have fallen backwards, had Ivan not reached out and grabbed him before he fell.

"I can see you're all bandaged up. I know the other two helped you. But it's okay. I'm not angry. The fact that you came back down here of your own free will…it shows how much you love me in return." Toris could only nod bitterly. "I have, umm, brought my friend back from the meeting. I'm going to try and persuade him to join us again." This captured Toris' interest. Feliks? "And I want him to see you."

"But I…I'm a mess."

"No, you're not. You're beautiful. You just had a little fall down the stairs, didn't you, Toris." There was silence for a moment. "Didn't you?" His voice was bordering on dangerous.

"Ye-yes. I did."

"Good boy, Toris. Now, come on. Let's get you cleaned up, and then you can meet my good friend, da?"

Toris closed his eyes for a split second before sighing quietly. "Da." He muttered, and allowed himself to be helped up the staircase from the cellars and up the back staircase, so Feliks wouldn't see him. Ivan helped him out of his blood stained shirt and was unusually gentle as he helped him put a new one on. He even kindly pulled a hairbrush through Toris' brown hair. And when Ivan had deemed Toris presentable, he helped him down the stairs, and before Toris could say anything about it, they were at the bottom of the stairs, about to go into the waiting room where Feliks was sat.

"Feliks Łukasiewicz!" Ivan said happily. "I'm so glad you came back with me, because I've got someone I'd like you to meet."

Feliks turned around in his seat to face them, and his mouth fell open.

Ivan apparently hadn't seen Feliks' shock, because he carried on, smiling as always. "I've brought Toris to see you." Feliks could only nod, dumbstruck, as he stood up and hurried around to where Toris was stood, consciously avoiding Feliks' gaze.

"Like, what happened to you?" Feliks asked quietly.

"I…" Toris could feel Ivan's hand tighten around his shoulder. "I fell down the stairs. I'm pretty clumsy."

There was silence for a while, and Ivan's hand relaxed.

"How long have you been here?" Was Feliks' next question.

"Since the 15th June, 1940." Toris said softly.

"It was 50 years last June, wasn't it, Toris?"

Toris only nodded, his eyes on the floor.

"We had quite a celebration, didn't we, Toris?"

Toris nodded again, unable to repress a shudder.

"Apart from my sisters, Toris was the first one to come and live with me here. Estonia and Latvia came together, two months later. And we've been one big, happy family ever since then."

Toris nodded his agreement, feeling Feliks' gaze burning him like a searchlight.

"So, why don't you two get better acquainted? I'm just going to find my sister. Won't be long." With a smile, Ivan left, and quietly, Toris sank onto one of the chairs nearest the door. Feliks remained standing, watching him.

"I'm sorry." Feliks eventually said. "I, like, should have come earlier. I wanted to help you, you know? But I didn't. These past fifty years, I went, like, everywhere, looking for you. I asked England, America, France, but no one had seen you. Last time I was here, Russia didn't tell me you were here, even though I saw you. I've missed you, Lithuania."

"Feliks." Toris' voice was low and soft. "If I am able to get out of here…can I stay with you?"

There was silence for a while. "Of course you can, Toris. You're always welcome. You know?"

Toris nodded, and looked up when he felt Feliks cup his cheek gently with his hand. His touch was so different from Ivan's…it made Toris want to weep with gratitude. "I'm going to try…today. As soon as you've left. So…don't go far, okay?"

"Of course, Liet." And Toris had to close his eyes, because he hadn't been called that in 51 years. Feliks was just pulling his hand away from Toris' cheek as Ivan returned.

"Katyusha isn't in the house." Ivan looked puzzled, and Toris cleared his throat quietly.

"She took Natalia out this morning. They are likely to be gone all day."

Ivan smiled again. "I was starting to worry. So, Feliks." He said, sitting down on one of the large sofas in the room, gesturing for Feliks to take his place on another. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to join me…us?"

Feliks blinked, and looked around at Toris. And it all came together in his head. Ivan was showing Toris off. He must know that Feliks and Toris grew up together. Ivan had assumed that upon seeing Toris, Feliks would want to be near him, spend as much time with him as possible. While this was true, it didn't mean that Feliks had to join the USSR to do so. He wanted Lithuania freed, so he could make Toris smile and laugh again. Hell, he loved Toris, he had done for as long as he could remember, and he wasn't about to let him go. Feliks wouldn't join the USSR. He'd help get Toris out of the USSR. Feliks would watch the fall of the USSR. And he'd laugh.

He fought back a smirk and shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Ivan, but I simply can't accept." The way his voice was so formal, so different from his normal way of speaking, it caught Ivan's attention. It made him suspicious, but he wasn't sure why. "And I'm sorry you brought me all the way out here for nothing. Really, I'm sorry." Feliks stood up and walked towards the door. Before he left, he stopped by Toris, looking at him with concern in his green eyes. "It's been nice to see you again, Toris. I hope I can seen you again, like, really soon."

Toris nodded, not daring to look up, in case his eyes met with Ivan's. And then Feliks was gone, and Toris was alone in the room with Ivan.

"What you said last night, Toris. It hurt me, you know that?"

"What I _said_?" Toris asked incredulously. Anger was rising in him again, and for once he couldn't contain it. "I may have said some things that were hurtful, but at least I didn't break all your fingers! I didn't kick you in the side of the head! Are…are you insane, Ivan? Is there something mentally wrong with your brain, that you can't understand how much pain you cause me? And you say you love me, but you don't! Because anyone who loves anyone doesn't cover them in bruises, and knock them unconscious with a metal pipe! And at night when you…you do these things to me! All the time whispering to me how much you love me. You make me hate the sound of my own name, do you know that? Every time you say it, it makes me hate myself that much more. You are _insane_, Ivan. And for once, I'm standing up for myself. And you can knock me out, or shoot me, or kill me if you want, but I have to say this. I hate you. I never loved you. I never wanted you, no matter how much you deluded yourself into thinking that it was so. I hate you, Ivan Braginski."

He stood up and ran from the room. He was at the top of the stairs when he heard Ivan call for him, his voice unusually quiet and subdued. "Toris."

"What?" Toris cried, turning around to face him. "Can we just get this over with? I'll take myself down to the cellars if that's what you want!"

Ivan looked at him, and the expression on his face was unidentifiable to Toris. "What do you want from me, Toris?"

"I want my independence! I want to get away from this house! I want to get away from you! And perhaps then, I can rebuild my country myself, and make it better for my people. Because you certainly didn't do it!"

"Your independence?" Ivan asked, and Toris suddenly realised that he looked heart broken.

"I should have demanded this 51 years ago, but I was a fool, a coward and a fool. I want my independence, because I don't want to die in this house, with my blood on your hands!"

"You want your independence?" Ivan asked, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Suddenly his sorrowful expression turned to rage. "You want your freedom? Fine! Get out of here!"

Toris was caught off guard. "What?"

"I said get out!" Ivan roared. "Get away from me, because I never want to see you here again! Get out!"

And with that, Toris ran down the stairs, past Ivan and out of the front door. He didn't stop running. He didn't stop to look behind him. He just kept going, like the hounds of hell were at his heels. He forcibly dragged the front gate open, and set off down the dusty road, and beyond the trees lining the road on both sides there were barren fields stretching as far as the eye could see. He rounded a corner and nearly screamed as he ran into someone's back. The someone spun around and grabbed hold of his arms, so he wouldn't fall.

"Toris! You did it? Are you alright?"

Toris looked up at Feliks. "Yes. Yeah, I did it."

Feliks hugged him close suddenly. "You're going to be okay, Liet. Come on. Let's go."

Feliks held Toris' bandaged hand as best he could for the entirety of the car drive back to Feliks' house. It was a long drive, and it took about three days. But, neither nation minded. After all, when one is immortal, three days is but a very short period of time.

Toris was asleep when they pulled up through the gates. Feliks turned off the ignition and placed his hand on Toris' shoulder and shook gently. "Toris. Toris!" He said softly. "Like, wake up! We're here."

Toris opened his eyes sleepily. For a few seconds he blinked and rubbed his eyes, before he looked out of the window. They were in a thick pine forest, and mist was hanging in the air. Dew was dripping off the needles of each tree, glistening like diamonds. Nestled in the trees, (and almost completely blocked from sight by them) lay Feliks' house. It resembled a hunting lodge more than anything else, with rich dark brown wood covering each wall. It looked like it was straight out of a fairytale, and Toris loved it. "Welcome home, I guess." Feliks said quietly.

"It's so beautiful." Toris said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I haven't been here in so long. I've missed it."

Feliks chuckled. "Like, of course you have! Now come on. Let's get you inside."

Feliks got out and rushed around to Toris' door, intent on helping him out. He reached for his hand but Toris shook his head. "I can manage. But thank you." Feliks nodded and watched as Toris carefully lifted himself out of his seat. And that was when Feliks caught sight of Toris' bandaged fingers in their entirety, both hands bound together against two splints.

"What happened to your hands?"

Toris' eyes widened. "Nothing. Like I said. I fell down the stairs."

"You broke all your fingers falling down the stairs?"

Toris noticed the absence of Feliks' informal way of speaking and glanced up at him. Eventually he shrugged. "Yes. I did." Toris walked past him, towards the house.

"I know it was him." Feliks called. Toris stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned to face Feliks. "It was him, wasn't it?"

Toris eventually nodded. "Yes. It was him."

"Why?" Feliks said, angrier than he meant to be. "Why did he do it?"

Toris stared at him with steely eyes before saying, "Because he thinks he loves me." He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but when he couldn't find the words he closed it again. Feliks walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and began to lead him inside.

"Come on. I'll run you a bath, and find you some, like, clean clothes." He thought it best not to mention that Toris' shirt was sticking to the blood that was leaking from some of the wounds on his back, and large red stains were covering most the area.

The rooms inside Feliks' home were large, spacious, but somehow managed to remain cosy. In nearly every room there was a stone fireplace, and heavy curtains and thick carpets meant that every room was quite dark. To compensate, Feliks had placed candles and lamps wherever he could. Toris loved it all, revelling in the feeling of memories rushing back to him.

"Your room's upstairs." Feliks said, beckoning to Toris to follow him up the stairs. The biggest of Feliks' spare rooms, now Toris' room, overlooked the vast garden. The windows were large, letting a lot of light enter the room. The bed was spacious, and looked incredibly comfortable.

"Your bathroom's, through there." Feliks said, gesturing to the door behind him. "Why don't you have a bath, and I'll make us dinner, okay?"

Toris looked at him, and he smiled. Feliks thought he had imagined it, but no, it was true. Toris was smiling. And Feliks thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Feliks just smiled and turned to leave. As he was going through the door, he heard Toris clear his throat. "Thank you, Feliks. For everything."

Feliks shook his head. "It's nothing. I'll call when dinner's ready, okay?"

Toris nodded, and Feliks headed downstairs, a smile on his lips.

The room he was stood in was completely dissimilar to the one he had at Ivan's house. This room had not seen his blood, or heard his tears. This room was for Feliks' Toris, not Ivan's Toris. And that thought alone made Toris want to laugh and weep and sing all at the same time, but he did not. All he did was smile, a proper smile of relief and gratitude, because he finally felt safe, damn it, he felt happy.

* * *

**...Well? Please tell me what you think, even if it's bad. thank you.**

**Next chapter : Estonia and Latvia. Woo.**

**~~Allie x  
**


	2. Estonia and Latvia

**So, here we are again. :)**

**

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**Estonia and Latvia  
**

The house was quiet without him. Far too quiet. On one hand, it was a good thing. Raivis no longer woke in the night to hear his tortured screams coming from Ivan's room. Eduard no longer walked past his room to hear him sobbing.

For these reasons, it was good that Toris was gone. But without Toris, a different atmosphere descended on the house. It was Toris who was always able to get back up again, no matter what Ivan did to him. It was Toris who put on a brave face, Toris who didn't lose his mind during his imprisonment. Toris was, to Eduard and Raivis at least, a symbol of hope. He was proof that Ivan couldn't take away a person's spirit, or their soul. But most of all, Toris was their friend, and without him, there was nothing left for them in the USSR.

Ivan arguably suffered the most from his loss. No matter what he did to him, he loved Toris, he truly did. His judgement was clouded, and there was no little voice in his head to tell him to stop. His mind told him that nothing was wrong with the sight of blood pouring from Toris' body. Maybe, in his brain, there was a glitch that made him treat other people like his own personal punching bag. But that didn't mean that he didn't love Toris with all his heart.

And that heart had been broken when Toris had left him. His terrifying smiles died out, but then again all his smiles died out. Where before he had appeared to be happy all the time, now, when he was angry, Eduard and Raivis knew about it, they could tell from the look on his face. He had become angry, irritable. At least, this time, the two remaining Baltic nations had some warning before Ivan exploded into a fearsome rage.

"Um…Ivan?"

Ivan looked up at him from the kitchen table, and for a second he glared, before his vision cleared. "Yes?" He asked briskly, and the irritation was evident in his eyes.

"I'm sorry to disturb you. I just came down for a glass of water." Raivis stood there, shivering in the cold. Beneath his feet, the tiles of the kitchen were like ice, and the small fire burning in the grate was completely ineffective.

Ivan didn't seem to be feeling the cold. He wasn't wearing his coat or scarf, and Raivis wondered how it was that he wasn't shivering. Then he noticed the small shot glass and the bottle of vodka. _That explains it,_ he thought.

"Oh." Ivan said. "That's fine."

Raivis nodded and hurried over to the sink, where he proceeded to fill a glass with ice cold water, much to his dismay. He took a drink, ever aware of Ivan's eyes on his back.

"So how are you, Raivis?"

Raivis jumped and nearly dropped the glass, but he took a deep breath and settled himself. "Fine, thank you."

"Do you like living here?"

Raivis paused. He couldn't tell the truth, of course he couldn't. Eventually he nodded. "Very much so."

"I don't like living here." Ivan mumbled.

"But…but it's your house." Raivis said, confused.

"I know that!" Ivan snapped, and Raivis took a step back. His glass of water sat on the countertop, forgotten, but at least it was safe from toppling to the floor. "If it's my house, shouldn't it be nice?" Ivan stood up, towering over Raivis. The way he swayed, Raivis could tell he was drunk. "Shouldn't it be cosy, and warm, and…and homely? If this is my home, why do I hate it so much?"

"I…I…" Raivis looked around, trying to think of a suitable response. "I'm sure you don't hate it…"

Ivan shook his head. "I didn't always hate it. When…when _he _was here, I loved it. When _he _was here, this place felt like somewhere I belong. _He _made me feel like I had someone to whom I could belong. But now…I've got no one."

"You…you don't have no one…you've got your sisters…"

"What about you?" Ivan asked sharply. "What about you, and Estonia? Don't I have you? Aren't you my friends?"

"O…of course we are, Ivan. We _are _your friends."

Ivan just nodded, gazing at Raivis. "You're awfully small, you know."

Raivis raised his eyebrows at the sudden subject change. "Yes, I…I do know."

"Why's that?" Raivis knew the reason, of course, but he didn't feel like angering a drunk, violent man who was at least twice his size.

"I'm not sure. I could just as well ask why you're so tall." He laughed nervously, and even a smile crept onto Ivan's face. There was silence for a few moments. "I should probably be getting to bed." Raivis said softly, and Ivan nodded.

"Of course." Ivan said, taking his place at the table again. "Have a nice night, Raivis."

Raivis nodded, already backing towards the door. "You…you too."

Ivan snorted a laugh, and downed another glass of vodka. Raivis fled.

The next morning, Eduard woke to the sound of smashing glass. He shot out of bed and ran down into the kitchen, where Ivan was in the process of grabbing plates from the kitchen cupboards and flinging them to the floor, where they shattered. Tiny fragments of china flew in all directions across the floor, flying under the counters and the kitchen table.

"How dare he!" Ivan roared. "How dare he!"

The question 'who' was on the tip of Eduard's tongue. He scanned the room, caught sight of Raivis, and he sighed with relief. He was worried that Raivis had made a break for it last night.

"How dare he leave me!" Katyusha and Natalia came into the room behind him. Katyusha looked shocked, as was to be expected, but a devilish smirk spread across Natalia's pretty face.

She surveyed the situation before she tiptoed over to Ivan and reached up to place a hand on his shoulder. "Yes." She whispered. "He did leave you. He left without a second thought. Doesn't that make you mad?"

"Natalia, stop it!" Katyusha cried. "Stop making things worse!"

Natalia scowled at her, but she withdrew. Ivan had his back to all of them, but it was easy to see his shoulders were trembling, his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Eduard was sure that Ivan was beginning to get over Toris' departure. Obviously, he was wrong.

"She's right." Ivan murmured. "He left with a second thought for me!"

"You should go and bring him back!" Natalia said enthusiastically.

"No!" The word was out of Eduard's mouth before he could do anything about it. Ivan spun around to face him, glaring with fury in his violet eyes. "I mean…his independence has already been declared. You announced it yourself…" He felt himself physically drawing away from Ivan's glare. "You can't go back on your word. You'll have hell to pay."

"I'd pay anything to have him back." Ivan murmured and Eduard sucked in a breath in anticipation for his next words. "But you're right. You…you're right." He turned to see Eduard and Raivis stood together. Eduard had placed a hand on Raivis' shoulder, and his grip was tight, as if he were holding him in place. "Would you two leave?" His question was blunt, and Eduard was confused, before Ivan spoke again. "If I let you leave, would you go? Would you?"

Eduard realised they had to answer, and he didn't know what to say. "I…I don't know, I mean…well, I…we…" He looked at Raivis for help, but Raivis could only shrug, shaking his head fearfully. "I'm not sure." Eduard said eventually.

"I'd leave." Ivan murmured, glaring at the shards of china on the tiled floor. "I'd leave, if I could. But I can't. Because this is my home. But you." He suddenly looked up at Raivis and Eduard, who both shrank a little under his gaze. "You'd be okay with leaving, wouldn't you." It wasn't a question. "I know you hate it here. I can see how you're trembling. So, I'm asking you, in all seriousness, would you leave? Would you leave me here, after everything I've done for you?"

And suddenly, Raivis was nodding, shrugging Eduard's hand off, taking a step forward. "Yes. Yes, we would leave you, Ivan, because you've made our lives hell, all the time we've lived here. We've been here for 51 years, and that's 51 years too long. I'm sorry, Ivan." Eduard wondered where Raivis had gotten this courage from. "I'm really sorry, but I hate it here, _we _hate it here, and if you let us, I think the first thing we would do is leave."

There were several shocked minutes of silence after that, as Raivis' words sunk in. "You'd leave." Ivan's voice was a broken whisper. "I've done so much for you."

"You've done _nothing _for us." Raivis said.

"Come on, Raivis. Let's get out of here." Eduard steered Raivis out of the room, and once Ivan was safely out of earshot, he rounded on the small nation. "Are you mad?" He asked. "Do you want him to kill us?"

"He needed to know!" Raivis shouted. "I'm sick of living here, and if Toris could leave, then I don't see why we can't!"

"Yes, I understand, Raivis, but you can't just go around saying things like that to him! He's-"

"He's what?" Came a low voice from behind them both. They turned to see Ivan there, leaning against the doorframe, looking at them with guarded eyes.

"Nothing." Eduard muttered. "Come on, Raivis." And he practically dragged the boy up the stairs.

"Are we leaving?" Raivis asked, a little more eager than Eduard would have expected him to be. "Are we going?"

"I…" Eduard faltered, pushing open the door to his bedroom. "Yes. We'll go. Now. And he can try and stop us." There was courage in his words, but it was belayed by the fear in his eyes.

"Yes." Raivis said. "We can do this."

And so, a few minutes later, Eduard found himself grabbing clothes and stuffing them into a bag, looking around his room at his meagre possessions. Everything he owned was back at his house, everything of sentimental value, at least. Here, the only things that meant anything to him were two small photographs. One was of the rolling Estonian countryside, the place he loved the most, and the other was a picture of Raivis, Toris and himself, all smiling and laughing. This picture was taken in a time gone by. Toris hadn't smiled like that for years. Neither had he, Eduard supposed. He grabbed the two of them and stuffed them into the bag.

Suddenly, from the doorway, someone cleared their throat. Eduard stiffened and spun around, but who he saw there wasn't Ivan, or even Raivis. It was Katyusha. "You're leaving, aren't you." She said softly.

Eduard looked at his feet. "Yes. We need to get out, while we still can." He looked at the worry on Katyusha's face. "You could come with us, Katyusha."

She shook her head. "He's my brother, Eduard, I couldn't just leave him. It would destroy him."

Eduard could see just how much she loved her brother, despite everything. "I'm going to miss you." He said, before he could stop himself.

Katyusha nodded. "I'm going to miss you, too. It's going to be so quiet here, without you."

"Thank you." Eduard said suddenly, and Katyusha looked at him, confused. "Thank you, for everything. I know…Toris left before he got a chance to say so, but we're all so grateful for everything you've done for us, for him. It's easy to think that we've been forgotten, in here, but you were always there for us, and I really can't thank you enough." He walked over and grasped her hand, squeezing gently. "Thank you." He murmured again, before leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.

He dropped her hand, grasping his bag, and headed out into the corridor. "Raivis?" He called. Within seconds, the smaller boy appeared. "Are you ready?"

Raivis looked uncertain, before he nodded. "Yeah." He smiled slightly at Katyusha. "I guess…this is goodbye."

Katyusha chuckled, ruffling his hair playfully and a little sadly. Eduard could see the tears glistening in her pretty eyes. "Not for ever."

Eduard nodded, smiling at her. "I'll see you soon, I guess."

"Yeah." Katyusha murmured, looking away so they wouldn't see her tears fall.

When they were downstairs by the front door, Raivis stopped, and looked unsurely at Eduard. Eduard nodded, phrasing the words in his head. "Russia!" He called suddenly. There was silence for a few seconds, before Ivan appeared in one of the doorways along the corridor.

"Yes?" He asked, his voice sullen, his eyes dull.

"We…we're going." Raivis said, quickly clearing his throat as his voice cracked.

"I can see that much. So? What are you still doing here?"

Eduard startled. "You're not going to stop us?"

Ivan shrugged. "This house is weakening. When _he _left, it was like someone had taken to the foundations with a sledgehammer. I can't stop you, not anymore. So. Leave, if you want. I'll give you your independence. Do what you want." And with that, he vanished through the door.

Raivis looked at Eduard, confused, when with a shove, Eduard pushed the huge door open. The sunlight was weak as it filtered through the pale cover of cloud, and there was a chill in the air, as winter approached slowly. The iron gates at the front of Ivan's house were slightly ajar, and Eduard wondered who had put them like that. As they walked, Raivis glanced over his shoulder, to the top window, where Natalia was stood, sneering at the both of them. Raivis stiffened and kept his head down as he walked.

They were walking for a good few days, and as they did, Raivis began to wish they had some form of vehicle to make the journey pass quicker. They reached Estonia first, and Raivis looked on as Eduard's face lit up, seeing the familiar and beloved scenery of his homeland.

"It's all as I left it." He murmured. "It's all beautiful. And it's all still here."

And when they reached Eduard's house, he couldn't hide the happy sob that came out, as he gazed upon his home, his real home. As he let himself in, Raivis stood in the doorway, awkwardly. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the journey to Latvia on his own.

"Raivis?" Eduard asked him, turning to face him. "Aren't you coming in?"

"I…well, I should be going, it's getting late, I'd quite like to get home before nightfall, I-"

"Raivis." Eduard said. "Come in. You're welcome to stay the night. After all. This is a night for celebration."

And Raivis couldn't help but smile, because they had succeeded, and damn it, they deserved to celebrate.

As the sun set, the two sat in Eduard's cosy living room and toasted their success, giddy and hopeful of what would become of them now. They were now free, like so many other nations, and Raivis let his mind wander, to England, France, Germany, they would all be asleep, dreaming of their empires and their conflicts, their victories and losses. And, far to the west, America and Canada would be winding down for the day, achievements in their minds, smiles on their faces at the sun set on their countries. And in the east, Japan would be waking up, hopeful of what the day would bring, ever aware of his precious freedom.

And, in the back of his mind, Raivis saw Russia, in the middle of the night, sobbing for his loss. He pushed that thought away, unwilling to let it spoil his good mood.

That night, Raivis and Eduard fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

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**I'm sorry this one is rather shorter than the first. Bet you can't tell who's my favourite Baltic, right? ;)**

**~~Allie x  
**


	3. Ukraine and Belarus

**Ukraine and Belarus **

"I'm sorry, Ivan." Her voice was soft, as was the comforting hand on his back. "Really, I'm sorry."

But what could she do? How could she fix the situation? She couldn't bring back the Baltic countries Ivan had worked so hard to obtain.

He had announced their independence with a bitter smile on his face, while the other countries looked on, surprised and confused at the sudden changing of his mind. At the back of the room, Ivan had spotted Poland, but Feliks had vanished before he could fight his way through the crowd to get to him.

After that he had returned home, and he saw the shadows in the rooms, he heard the echoes of his footsteps, the solitary bang of a door closing.

His sisters were there, of course they were, but what good would they do? They couldn't bring Toris back, the one he wanted the most. Ivan didn't want to face the possibility that his heart was breaking. It couldn't be breaking. After all, Toris had once told him he had no heart. How could it break if it wasn't there?

"Come on, Ivan. Let's get you inside." He felt her hands on his waist, hoisting him upright, and he let her lead him inside. Katyusha placed him on a sofa, looking at him with concerned eyes. "Are you alright?"

Ivan shrugged. He looked through the open front door, to where he had been sat on the gravel drive for the best part of half an hour. He had watched Estonia and Latvia walk away, without so much as a glance over their shoulders. Well, Raivis had looked back, but the frightened glimpse hadn't been directed at Ivan.

So, in the end, they hadn't been grateful. He thought as much.

"Ivan." Katyusha's voice was soft, insistent. "Ivan, look at me." He lifted his head to look at her, concern in her pale eyes. "It's all for the best, you hear? The other countries…they weren't especially happy with what you were doing, and now…well, they've got no reason to be angry with you. This is a good thing, trust me."

"Then why am I so sad?"

Suddenly Natalia was at his side on the sofa, a hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Brother. I'll look after you." Katyusha frowned at her and batted her away. She looked at Ivan's face and noticed her words weren't making him feel any better.

"Stop that." She muttered. "You're not helping."

Natalia stood up suddenly, sticking her tongue out at her older sister.

"Yekaterina…" Ivan murmured, and Katyusha raised her eyebrows upon being addressed by her proper name. She had been 'Katyusha' for so long.

"Yes, Ivan?" She sat down next to him, a hand coming to rest on his arm.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice cracking. He looked utterly broken, his head bent, his lips in a taught line, his violet eyes dull and unfocussed. He blinked slowly, and suddenly a single tear was running down his cheek, past his nose and over his lips. Katyusha saw her brother's pain, and she wanted to comfort him, she really did, but what could she say? She had never supported his actions. But, he was her brother, and she had to accept it because she loved him. She couldn't say that she had been right all along, because she hadn't. There was once a time, early on in Toris' captivity, when she truly believed that maybe things could work out.

Ivan hadn't yet begun to torture Toris in the way that he did, and Toris was safe, unharmed, in the house, if a little bit scared. He looked to Katyusha for comfort and solace, and he'd been quite taken by Natalia, taking the opportunity to comfort her when she had been turned down by Ivan, as ever.

Within a few weeks, however, it had all changed. Toris began to question what exactly he was doing there, and Ivan snapped. Toris was in that cellar for a good few days, and when he returned he was beaten, his innocence gone, his spirit broken. And Natalia had broken all his fingers at her brother's command, and suddenly Toris didn't find her so attractive anymore.

But before that, life in the USSR had been alright, and Katyusha had been cautiously optimistic that it would all work out. It had not, however. So, she didn't know how to respond. She couldn't condemn his actions, but she couldn't support them, either. All she did was hug him tightly, feeling the fabric of the scarf she had made him against her skin. "It's alright, Ivan. Don't cry. I've got you." She felt his hesitant hands wrap themselves around her shoulders, and she continued to murmur words so softly that Natalia, who was stood just a few feet away, couldn't understand.

Natalia felt stirrings of jealousy. She loved her brother with all her heart. She wanted to be with her brother. But Ivan always pushed her away. Why, then, was he not shunning Katyusha in the same way? He accepted her embraces, but not Natalia's. She scowled at the both of them, malice in her dark eyes.

For a good few days after the departure of Eduard and Raivis, Ivan wasn't seen by Katyusha or Natalia. Natalia hid herself away also, either in her room or in the library, the place she had recently taken to haunt.

As for Katyusha, she spent her time wandering between the kitchens and the bedrooms upstairs. She went into Toris', to see his belongings as he had left them. She saw the bed was unmade, and looked curiously like it had recently been slept in, though she knew Toris hadn't been here for a good three weeks. And suddenly she realised that Ivan must have slept here at some point. She vaguely remembered mornings where she would see him leave Toris' room and not his own, but she never said anything about it. It wasn't really her place to do so. Toris had a few photographs at the side of his bed, and they were the only things that could physically point out to someone that this was Toris' room. The first, and biggest, photograph was black and white, and rather old. It was of a younger Toris, sat next to a young Feliks, who was wearing a barrette in the shape of a flower in his hair. He was scowling at Toris for some reason, but Toris was laughing, joy and mirth in his eyes. Katyusha had known Toris for a long time, but she had never seen him look like this.

The second picture was the same as the one she knew Eduard had kept beside his bed. It was of all three Baltic countries, and Katyusha's heart lurched painfully at the thought of not seeing them again. They were her dear friends, she didn't quite know what she would do without them.

The last picture confused her. It was a photograph of Ivan. And not just Ivan. Toris was there too. Ivan's hand was placed possessively on Toris' shoulder, but he was smiling, and his eyes were filled with a warmth that Katyusha realised had vanished when Toris had left. Ivan looked so in love that Katyusha blinked several times, unsure as to whether she was seeing correctly. Toris looked rather intimidated, but he was smiling slightly and unsurely at the camera, a lock of his chestnut hair falling over his eyes. Katyusha couldn't begin to comprehend why Toris would keep a photograph like this. She knew how Toris hated Ivan, so why would he want a daily reminder of what Ivan was doing to him? It didn't make sense. She would have to ask him, at some point, about it.

Without a second thought, she grabbed all three, and took them into the kitchen, hunting for brown wrapping paper. She found some, and wrapped the pictures in it, tying the package with white string. She wrote down the address to Toris' house, for some reason committed to memory, and, leaving a note explaining her absence, left the house in the direction of the nearest town, with every intention of posting this package to Toris. She didn't know where Toris was at that moment in time. If he was at home, this would certainly brighten his day. If he wasn't, he would eventually return home to find her package waiting for him. She knew that would make him happy, and she smiled.

The months dragged. Winter arrived, unspectacular and unwelcome, and before Katyusha knew it, the house was starting to get buried by snow. It was about a foot deep, but this had never bothered Katyusha. Ukraine was used to snow. What did bother her was a chilled, biting wind that froze the very core of the house.

Katyusha felt like she had drifted away from Ivan, and from Natalia. There was once a time when the three of them used to have dinner, in the middle of winter, huddled by a roaring fire, and although it was cold and dark and depressing outside, they would talk and laugh and together they would wait for the arrival of Spring, where the sunflowers would blossom slowly but proudly.

This particular winter, there was no such occurrence. Katyusha sat in the empty kitchen, the cold of the tiles chilling her feet, wondering what Natalia was doing, and where Ivan was. They could be anywhere in the big house, but she no longer had the heart to look for them.

She didn't feel like they were a family, not anymore.

Natalia sighed, staring out of the window. It had grown dark a long time ago, but the light from the house was reflected in the snow falling outside, slowly but surely. She idly wondered what the snow falling on Minsk would look like. She imagined the white against the soft lights of the buildings, the silence as the snow fell and the people slept. She looked over to the doorway, to see if anyone was stood there.

There was no one, even though she'd been hoping for Ivan's large frame to block out the light. She left the library, with its towering shelves full of dusty and forgotten novels, and she made her way along to Ivan's room. The door was tightly shut, as it always was, but Natalia didn't hesitate to knock.

"Brother?" She whispered, pressing her ear against the door to see if she could hear anything.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around, so she was face to face with Katyusha. "For goodness sake." She whispered. Her eyes were tired, and she was frowning despairingly. "Can't you just leave him alone? He's so upset, he doesn't need you trying to jump him all the time."

Natalia crossed her arms, scowling at her older sister. "He's my brother. And I want to make sure he's alright. I don't know if it's crossed your mind, but I care about him. I'm not _always_ trying to get him to marry me."

Katyusha frowned, but her eyes had softened, and she let go of Natalia's shoulder, her hand falling to her side. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don't upset him further."

Natalia watched her round a corner, before she turned back to the door. She knocked again, lightly, barely making a sound. "Ivan? Are you in there?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. She could hear faint noises from within, and without further delay she turned the handle, pushing the door open.

The room was dark, and for a few seconds, Natalia let her eyes adjust to the sudden change of light intensity. She could see Ivan sat on the edge of his neatly made bed. His head was down, his hair falling over his eyes. His hands were clenched in his lap and his breathing was slow and heavy. He looked so dissimilar from the proud, strong nation he had once been that Natalia felt a painful lurch of sympathy in her chest. "Oh, Ivan…" She murmured, perching beside him.

He didn't look up, and she wouldn't have known that he was aware of her presence, had he not tensed slightly. She realised that he really was afraid of her.

"We should go to St. Petersburg. All three of us. See the palaces."

Ivan shook his head, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse and rough, as if he was only learning to speak. "I can't go there. I killed them all." Flashes of five faces appeared in his mind, all of them still just children, all of them so innocent and terrified. The youngest girl hadn't died from the bullets, so he'd hit her in the head with the butt of his rifle until she stopped screaming. He'd been so caught up in the excitement that came with the promise of revolution, he hadn't realised what he'd done until it was too late.

Natalia grimaced as she realised her mistake, and she placed a hand lightly on his arm. "Then we should go to Minsk. Or Kiev. Or we should go to the coast. I want to see the sea. Don't you?"

Ivan gave a shrug which meant neither yes nor no. "I…haven't been to Minsk in a while." He said eventually, his voice reminding Natalia of a child that had just been told off for something.

"Well, there you go." Natalia said encouragingly. "We should go. We'll have fun, won't we?"

"How will we get there?" Ivan asked, folding his fingers around each other.

Natalia smiled wistfully. "We can take the train. I love the train."

There was a glimmer of something in Ivan's eyes. "Me, too."

The next day, to Ivan's surprise, he found himself suddenly in a busy train station, amidst so many people going about their business. Katyusha and Natalia were on either side of him, smiling hopefully as they waited for the train.

"It's a lovely day." Katyusha commented quietly. It was. The sky was white, a difference from the usual dark grey, and the snow that fell was soft and delicate, tiny crystals that landed on Ivan's eyelashes. No wind blew, the sky was quiet and gentle, and Ivan looked up at it, only to look away and blink hurriedly when snow fell in his eyes.

Their ride on the train was a long but comfortable one. Natalia fell asleep, her forehead resting against Katyusha's shoulder, and Ivan managed the tiniest of smiles for the both of them. He sat on his own, opposite them, his arms crossed over his chest protectively.

He had stayed that way for the majority of the train journey, and when they pulled up slowly into Minsk, he was tired and rather grumpy, while his sisters were both wide awake and refreshed, having fallen asleep on the train.

As the train pulled to a stop, Katyusha shook Natalia's shoulder. "Wake up." She murmured. "We're here."

At once, Natalia's eyes shot open and she span around to face the window, almost pressing her nose against the glass as she saw her beloved city again. "Come on!" She said excitedly. "There's so much I want to see again!" She practically danced off the train, and such was her excitement that she reminded Katyusha of when she had been a little girl, and a little less obsessed with her brother. Ivan and Katyusha had followed at a sedate pace, both rather amused at the girl's enthusiasm.

They had wandered through streets that would have held no interest for tourists, but Natalia had demanded to see them all, smiling with joy as her eyes fell upon familiar houses, familiar shops. This country was her home, and she had been away for so long. Eventually, as the sun was low in the sky, Ivan and Katyusha found themselves being dragged into a café by Natalia, who was chattering about hot chocolate.

They ordered, and as she had predicted it was delicious, and despite everything, Ivan felt truly happy after so long. He was with his sisters, they were smiling at him as he drank something warm and delicious. There really was no reason for him to be upset.

It was dark when they had finally left the café, the snow on the ground turned blue in the darkness, by what little light was reflecting off of it. "We'll need to stay somewhere for the night." Katyusha murmured, pulling her thick coat further around her.

"Da." Ivan agreed, looking at Natalia. After all, it was her city. She would know where was best.

She grinned proudly at the both of them. "I know just the place." She announced, setting off down an empty road. Ivan and Katyusha followed, and Katyusha glanced at her brother, caught his eye, and she smiled.

"Are you alright?" She asked softly, the only other sound the crunching of snow beneath their feet.

Ivan paused for a moment and nodded. "Da." He said again. "Today has been…rather enjoyable."

Katyusha nodded vigorously. "I've not seen Natalia like this in…such a long time. Who knew Minsk made her act like this?" She chuckled, but Ivan frowned slightly, not particularly liking what she had said. He shrugged eventually, pushing it to the back of his mind.

The two followed Natalia for about ten minutes before they found themselves in one of the wealthier areas of Minsk. In front of them was a stately townhouse, pillars and all. "What is this place?" Katyusha asked.

Natalia shrugged. "It's my house in Minsk. Have I not brought you here before?"

Katyusha shook her head, but Ivan was thinking. "You've mentioned it." He said eventually.

"Of course! I love it here. I know my main house is in the country, but I do love the hustle and bustle of the city. So now I have this. As big and beautiful as Minsk itself." She giggled and slotted a key into the lock on the door. It clicked and she pushed the door open, revealing a plush entranceway. The moonlight glinted on the marble tiles, and for a few seconds Katyusha and Ivan stood in the dark before Natalia leant across to flick on some light switches.

The lights flicked on and illuminated the house. It was finely decorated and Natalia seemed to be immensely proud of it, and when she showed her siblings around she couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"Well." She said, as they were stood on the upstairs corridor. "I think it's time we all went to bed. There's still plenty to see tomorrow." She grinned, as if she couldn't physically wait. "This is my room," she gestured to a door behind her. "Ivan, that's your room there, and Katyusha, your room is next to his."

"How many guest rooms do you have?" Katyusha inquired.

"Guest rooms?" Natalia asked, cocking her head, confused. "Nyet! Those are your rooms, set aside permanently for the two of you."

"Really?" Ivan asked, a smile appearing. "You did that for us?"

"Of course!" Natalia looked seriously confused. "You're my brother and sister. I have a room at your house, right? Well, this is the same." She beamed at the both of them, noticing Katyusha's smile of gratitude. What she didn't notice was that Ivan's frown had returned, and that his brain was telling him that in no way was this the same, because she wasn't forcing him to stay here, she didn't have Baltic countries locked up in the basement, she -

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Well." He said, smiling a forced smile. His sisters noticed it. "Thank you very much. I'll be off then. Goodnight." With a nod of his head, he opened the door to what was apparently his room, and let himself in.

It was a lovely room, he couldn't deny. His room was on the corner of the building, and he had two big windows. One facing the street they had entered the house on and the other showed him the silhouette of the Minsk skyline. It was picturesque. There was a big double bed, and jars of sunflowers dotted around the room, perched on tables or on windowsills. Ivan wondered how they had remained alive during Natalia's absence, and he had to assume that people came to tend to her house while she was away. Natalia had always been somewhat of a perfectionist. Among other things.

Ivan could vaguely hear Katyusha wishing Natalia a good night, and he found himself smiling as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room smelt like his beloved sunflowers and his dreams were of a warm land with fields and fields of the beautiful yellow plants. It was the first night out of many where he hadn't dreamt about Toris' blood on his hands.

He awoke the next morning, to find he pale light from the sun shining through his window as well as reflecting off the snow, meaning it was almost blinding. He could hear, even from his room, the sound of Katyusha walking around, opening and closing doors, speaking with Natalia.

"Come on, Natalia! We have to leave soon, the train is in a few hours."

"But…" Natalia sounded like a petulant child. "But I don't want to go! This is my home!"

"Natalia, stop this silliness. Ivan has meetings he needs to attend with his superiors, he simply can't stay here."

"But, I-"

"No, Natalia. Go and get dressed. I'm going to wake Ivan."

He hastily closed his eyes, feigning sleep. There was a light rapping at his door, before it opened slowly. "Ivan?" Katyusha's voice was soft and gentle. Ivan opened his eyes again, smiling slightly at her. "I'm sorry to wake you, but we should be getting a move on…if we want to get back before tomorrow."

Ivan smiled and sat up. "Thank you, Katyusha."

She just smiled and nodded, closing the door, leaving him alone. When Ivan was dressed and washed, he made his way downstairs to find his sisters in the living room. "What's wrong?" Was the first thing out of his mouth.

Natalia looked at him. "Can't we stay another day?" She asked, her eyes wide and innocent. Ivan knew she as anything but.

Ivan shook his head, looking at his feet. "No, I've got business to attend to."

"Oh." Ivan wondered why Natalia didn't bother arguing with him, when she put up such a fight with her sister.

"I'm sorry." Ivan offered, feeling uneasy. "Still. We've got a good few hours before the train leaves, we still have time to look around."

Natalia smiled at him. "Thank you, Brother." She hurried over and hugged him tightly, and his eyes widened almost comically.

"I, uhh…it's nothing." Ivan said, trying to subtly detach himself from her grasp. Her arms fell to her sides, and she looked up at him with her dark blue eyes.

"Can we go now, then? There's this bakery, not far away, and it sells the most delicious-"

At that moment she was cut off, as the phone had started to ring. Ivan, being nearest, picked it up, holding the receiver to his ear. "Hello?" He asked. As the other voice spoke, his eyes went wide for just a second, before his face composed itself again. "Yes, I'm here. Where else would I be? I told you all where I was going." A pause as the other voice spoke. Natalia glanced at Katyusha, but they were as clueless as the other. "Well, it's not my fault if no one told you!" The other voice was suddenly louder, and Ivan winced, like a little child being shouted at. "Alright, I'm sorry. I planned to return today, anyway. I-yes. Yes, I will. As soon as I get back. Alright. Goodbye." He replaced the receiver when he heard the dial tone.

"Was it your boss?" Katyusha asked meekly.

Ivan nodded. "He hadn't been told that I was here. He was pretty angry, and he needs to see me right away. It's urgent, he says. I'm sorry, Natalia, but we have to get an earlier train back to Moscow."

Natalia glared suddenly. "No! I don't want to leave! This is my home!"

"No it isn't!" Ivan shouted, making Katyusha jump. "Your home is in Moscow, with me! I am well aware that this is your capital city, but _I _am the one who is in charge of this country! Do you understand me?"

Natalia had gone quite pale, and she nodded.

"I will not hear any more of staying here longer. We are getting the soonest train back to Russia, because my boss is furious and stressed and we have a lot of work to do because the USSR is collapsing. Alright?"

Both sisters nodded, and Ivan grabbed his scarf and coat, and stormed out of the house. Natalia grasped at her sister for reassurance, but hastily let go again when she heard the small sobs Katyusha was unable to hide.

"C'mon, Sister…" Natalia murmured, reaching out to hold her hand. It was strange to see Natalia show such affection towards Katyusha, but they were both scared, both upset, and they both wanted comforting. They both gathered what few belongings the three siblings had brought with them, and they eventually followed Ivan out into the road, Natalia locking the door to her home behind her.

Ivan was stood, some distance from the house, further down the snow covered road. "The train leaves," He said, his voice low and distant. "In twenty minutes. Hurry."

Katyusha looked at him, though he wasn't facing them, and she squeezed Natalia's hand. "Come along." She said, and they set off, and when Ivan could hear their shoes crunching in the snow he set off, his long strides meaning Katyusha and Natalia had to nearly run to catch up.

"I don't want to leave." Natalia murmured as they hurried. Ivan was some feet away, and he couldn't hear her.

"I know." Katyusha said. "But it's alright for you. At least you've been able to see Minsk again. I haven't seen Kiev in…so many years."

"Oh." Natalia murmured. "I'm sorry."

Katyusha nodded, feeling tears pooling in her eyes. She missed Kiev, she missed her country, more than anything. She glanced up at Ivan, walking with his head down, his hands clenched into fists, and despite everything she felt something akin to anger rise up within her, because he was the one keeping her away. She loved him, of course she did, but he had done so much. And she wanted her country back.

"We should leave him." She murmured, without really meaning to.

Natalia stumbled so violently she almost fell over. "What?" She said loudly, catching Ivan's attention. He paused, looking over his shoulder at the both of them. His violet eyes seemed oddly vacant, and Katyusha held his gaze for a few seconds before he looked away. "Are you crazy?" Natalia continued, not aware that they were now within Ivan's earshot.

"Ssh." Katyusha murmured, and Natalia obeyed, lapsing into silence.

"Is there a problem?" Ivan asked. He wasn't looking at the two of them, his eyes were fixed on some point to the left of them, and his expression was one of unease. Or maybe guilt. Katyusha couldn't decide.

"No, Brother." She said softly. "Everything's alright. The train station's just over there, da?" She knew that speaking in his own language would appease him. However he didn't even seem to notice it.

"Yes. Hurry now."

Natalia suddenly let go of Katyusha's gloved hand, hurrying over to Ivan. She wrapped her arms around one of his, not missing the tensing of his muscles, or the grimace on his face. "I won't ever leave you, Brother." She murmured, resting her cheek against the sleeve of his long, thick coat.

He raised his eyebrows and glanced down at his usually terrifying sister. "I…thank you." He said. "That's…nice to hear." Katyusha watched the two of them suspiciously. She wondered what Natalia was up to.

"I hate to see you so upset." Natalia continued. "And I'm sorry about earlier. I'm perfectly happy living with you. Hey, I've had an idea. Maybe we could build a house exactly in between Moscow and Minsk. We could live there when we're married." Suddenly Ivan wrenched his arm away from Natalia, stepping away from her.

"No marriage." He said, walking slightly faster.

"Alright then!" Natalia called, running to keep up. "We don't have to get married, not if you don't want, but we could still-" Katyusha had caught up with her and was about to beg her to be quiet, when Ivan interrupted.

"No!" Ivan said. they had arrived at Minsk's train station, and he pushed open one of the large doors, stepping inside. The main entrance was rather empty, considering how early in the morning it was. He glanced up at the timetables, saw their platform and started towards it. "I don't want to be your lover, Natalia." Her face fell, and she opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "I am your brother. And that's all. You understand?"

Natalia stopped, something burning in her dark blue eyes. Ivan stopped also, turning around to face her. "Stop this, Natalia, the train leaves in ten minutes. We need to get on."

"Why are you like this, Brother?" Natalia asked loudly. A couple walking past gave them an odd look. "You take me into your home, you don't let me leave, you take me to Minsk but then deny me when I want to see it all…I don't understand why you're like this! And now, as I am offering you my undying love and affection, you turn me away, as if I were nothing. You treat me so terribly!"

"Stop overreacting!" Ivan practically cried, turning away to once more set off to the platform.

"She's not!" A milder, more timid voice stopped him. Katyusha was at Natalia's side. "For some of what she said, you are right, but for the most part, she was spot on! I have not been to my own country in 50 years! You keep us all in that cold, draughty house like prisoners." She grabbed Natalia's arm, and towed her along, past a shell shocked Ivan. "I'm sorry, Brother." Ivan could see the tears in her eyes.

Katyusha and Natalia arrived on the station just as the train was pulling in. They embarked, choosing the carriage at the end, and once they were sat down, Natalia pulled out a tissue to dab at Katyusha's tears.

Ivan arrived on the platform a few seconds later. He saw his sisters hurry towards the far end of the train, and thought about following. At that moment he remembered the terrified defiance in Katyusha's eyes, and his heart lurched painfully. He hurried into the nearest carriage, choosing a seat and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, to stave off the uncomfortably hot tears that were pooling there. He did not try to approach his sisters for the entirety of the train journey.

As the train pulled into Moscow, it was noon, and the midday sun was shining, reflecting slightly off the snow that still lay thick on the ground. Katyusha and Natalia were two of the first off, and they disembarked cautiously, looking around for Ivan.

They saw him, his pale hair and pale clothing barely visible against the snow, but they could see that he was already setting off for home, without waiting for either of them.

Katyusha and Natalia trudged through the familiar streets of Moscow, streets that would never mean as much to them as Kiev or Minsk, and all too soon they were outside the huge wrought iron gates of Ivan's home, gates designed not to keep people out, but to keep them in. They were slightly ajar, and Ivan had left the front door to the house slightly open, but Katyusha found something was oddly unsettling at the sight of the front door open, revealing the dark room within.

Despite this having been her home for nigh on 51 years, she felt reluctant to enter. This house was like Ivan, she supposed, beautiful, calm and composed on the outside, but with such a darkness inside, a darkness that drove so many people away from the house, away from him.

Natalia was the one to lead Katyusha through the gates, across the gravel driveway still blanketed with snow, and inside, despite Katyusha's grimace, as they passed through the entrance hall, and into the garage. Katyusha didn't ask why Natalia was leading her here, she simply kept silent and followed obediently.

As they entered, Katyusha realised Natalia's eagerness to go there. Ivan was leaning against his car, a sleek black affair that he normally took great pride in, and he was in the process of checking the snow tracks on the tyres. When he heard his sisters come in, he looked up at the both of them, and they saw the emptiness in his eyes, and they could only watch as he, with one hand, opened the garage door, got into his car and drove away, presumably in the direction of his boss.

Katyusha sighed, pulling away from Natalia and heading upstairs, towards her room. She wasn't surprised when Natalia followed her. As they passed Toris' old room, Katyusha glanced back at her sister. "He really liked you, you know."

"Who?"

"Toris."

Silence, and then a huff. "He shouldn't. I've broken his fingers - twice. He's just a blind fool. He knows I love Brother."

Katyusha shrugged. "He told me how pretty he thought you were."

"Why doesn't Brother see it?" Was Natalia's response, and Katyusha rolled her eyes and looked at her pointedly. "Oh, don't get so upset. Toris is with that Polish fairy now, he hasn't got anything to worry about."

Katyusha's mouth fell open, wincing slightly at the venom in Natalia's words. "How did you know where he was?"

Natalia batted her hand dismissively. "Łukasiewicz has been in love with him for years. Lithuania didn't have anywhere to go."

Katyusha's forehead creased with thought. "Oh." Was all she eventually said, and without saying more, she pushed the door to her room open, closing it firmly behind her again.

It was night when Ivan returned, and Katyusha and Natalia, who had been watching television quietly in the living room, shared a look as they heard the heavy front door open and slam closed again. "Brother?" Natalia called, her sweet voice floating through the air. "Is that you?" They both knew it was, but she asked anyway, for the comfort of knowing he had returned safely.

There was a sigh, and the sound of someone taking off a heavy coat. "Yes, it's me." His voice was quiet and subdued, and suddenly he was stood in the doorway to the living room, looking at his sisters with tired, apologetic eyes.

"Will you join us?" Katyusha asked, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

Ivan shook his head. "No. I'm going to bed."

Katyusha and Natalia didn't say anything, and they watched as he left. Ivan's head was down, it wasn't held high as it normally was, and Katyusha found the image to be oddly unsettling. Where was her strong and powerful brother who could do anything, and to hell with the consequences? Where was _that_ Ivan? He certainly wasn't there anymore.

Natalia sighed softly, when the sounds of his footfalls on the steps had become inaudible. Katyusha nodded, agreeing with her little sister's sentiments. Everything was changing, she could feel it.

The next morning, when Katyusha awoke, it was to the sound of sleet pelting gently against the window, and she sighed. She hated sleet. It wasn't rain and it wasn't snow, it was a mixture of both, and she found it horribly depressing.

She got up, got dressed, pulled a comb through her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror, watching herself blink, watching herself breathe.

_Yes_, she decided. It was time.

She went along the corridor and into Natalia's room, and approached her bed quietly. "Natalia." She said softly. When she received no response, she said it a little louder. "Natalia. Wake up!"

Natalia opened her eyes and blinked up at her sister. "What is it? I was having a nice dream."

"Come on." Katyusha's voice was laced with an underlying urgency, and it had Natalia worried.

"What?" Natalia sat up in bed.

"It's time."

Comprehension dawned on Natalia and her mouth fell open. "No!" She cried, making Katyusha jump. "I absolutely will not! He is our brother and it is our duty to stand by him!"

Katyusha shook her head. "He's keeping us away from our countries! It's not healthy! Natalia, don't you understand? We _need _to return to Ukraine and Belarus." Katyusha noticed how Natalia winced at the sound of her country's name. "We _need _to. They are us, and we are them, and we cannot be apart. Please, Natalia. We need to leave. We'll see him again." She added, as an afterthought, hoping it would sway her little sister.

Natalia closed her eyes, and Katyusha could practically hear the debate going on in her head. "Alright." Natalia said eventually. "Let's go, now, before he gets back."

Katyusha frowned. "We're aren't running away, Natalia. He's our brother, and he deserves some dignity. When he gets back, we'll tell him our decision, and leave then. It would be worse for him to return and find us gone."

Natalia grimaced at the thought of having to leave Ivan at all. "Fine." She said, reaching for the hairbrush on the bedside table, slowly pulling it through her silvery blonde hair. Katyusha smiled softly at her, and left the room, returning to her own.

Once there, she approached the small desk that she conducted her business from. It was rare that she had any business to conduct, and it hadn't been used in a while. Never the less, she found a few sheets of crisp, white paper, and a pen in one of the drawers. She stared at them, before sitting down on the high backed chair. Picking up the pen, she stared at the paper, wondering what to write. She sighed, and put the pen to the paper.

Fifteen minutes later, Natalia entered timidly, peering around the door. "Sister?" She asked softly. Katyusha was still sat at her desk, but now her head was buried in her folded arms. her shoulders heaved every now and again, and Natalia knew she was crying. "Oh, Katyusha…" Natalia murmured, hurrying over to wrap an arm around her sister. "It's going to be alright."

"He's my little brother!" Katyusha eventually exclaimed. "I can't do this to him!"

"I know, Sister, I know…" Natalia found she had very little to say that would comfort her sister. "But, like you said, our countries need us, remember? And we'll see him again…this was _your _idea, Katyusha…he's strong, you know. He can survive anything."

"But what if he can't?" Katyusha's voice was soft, devastated. Her tears were dripping off her cheeks and onto the desk, narrowly avoiding the page of her flowing Cyrillic writing.

Natalia embraced her tighter. "We have to hope that he will. Now, come on. I'll help you pack."

It was nightfall before Ivan returned, the snow falling in the darkness, the sky dark and quiet. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing softly. Exiting the garage, he came into the corridor that contained the large staircase and the front door. He was about to ascend the stairs when he noticed two small shapes by the door. He turned, staring vaguely for a few seconds, before his sisters came into focus.

They were both clutching suitcases, and suddenly Ivan felt very strange. He felt like he was about to be sick, or pass out, or fall into a coma. He felt very hot, but very cold at the same time. He felt like he was having a heart attack, because his sisters were leaving him, and he knew he no longer had the strength to stop them.

"Yekaterina…" He said eventually, and the taller girl flinched at the sound of her name, her full name, not her informal and fond nickname, being said so harshly. "Are you leaving me?" Ivan's eyes switched from his older sister to his younger, who hurriedly looked away.

Katyusha closed her eyes tightly. She reached into the pocket of her thick winter coat, and pulled out an envelope, off white and crinkled at the corners. "Here." She said quietly, thrusting the envelope into the space between them.

Ivan, hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure how to work his legs, walked towards her, taking the envelope from her gloved hands. He just stared at it, trying to make out his own name in the dull light flooding the room. Suddenly, Katyusha was by his side, tears brimming in her large, pale eyes, her hair glinting in the faint light. "I'm so, so sorry." She murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

Natalia, wordlessly, did the same, never once meeting his gaze. And then, they were picking up their belongings, and heading towards the garage, where Katyusha's car sat, and he didn't do anything.

He should have protested, or grabbed them, or run after them. But he didn't. He stood, watching them fade into the darkness of that damned house, hearing the sounds of their boots against the marble floor until it became inaudible, and faded to silence. He listened to the garage door opening, a car starting, the crunch of tyres of snow and gravel. And then, that sound also dissolved to nothing, and he realised there were tears flooding down his cheeks, and they had been doing so for god knows how long.

He was shaking, the tears were unbearably hot against his face, and the fingers clutching the letter almost went slack, and the letter almost floated to the ground. As if seeing it for the first time, Ivan stared at it, before tearing open the envelope with the impatience of a child.

When he saw Katyusha's Cyrillic, he closed his eyes, because it was not often that his sister used his own language, but now she had written him a whole letter in it, and that thought alone made him want to weep and cry out for the mother he wished he had.

He stumbled backwards, until the back of his legs hit the stairs and he sat down heavily on one step, leaning against the banister. He looked down at the page in his hands.

_Dear Brother,_

_I am so, so sorry that we have to do this. I understand that you don't want us to go, but we have to. And I'm so sorry._

_For the past 51 years, I've always had my doubts. For the most part they were minor concerns, and I didn't bother voicing them, because I knew you'd take no interest in them. Natalia didn't when I told her, and that was reason enough not to tell you._

_But there were things, things that made me uncomfortable. And they made me speak out, and I tried my best, but you never seemed to hear me. I spoke as loudly as I could, but I never managed to get your attention. I'm sorry that I didn't try hard enough. Perhaps, if I had, you would have done something about them._

_These things mostly involved Toris. And I'm sorry to bring him up, because I know how much you love him, and I know how much his leaving hurt you. But, and I'm sorry I have to say this, there were things that you did to him that I really cannot excuse. I know that in your mind, hurting him as you did seemed liked a perfectly acceptable thing to do, but to the rest of us, barring perhaps Natalia, it was wrong, and it was frightening. _

_It made me scared, because I could hear him crying from my bedroom, and I could hear him shouting out in his sleep, his nightmares focussed solely on you. It made me wonder how you, my little brother, were so capable of doing all this. It made me worry that Eduard and Raivis might be next. It made me worry that you would hurt them, and even us, if the thought took you. _

_I don't mean to be judgemental of you, Ivan. You are my brother, and I love you with all my heart, but every family has its flaws, and these are ours. I just want you to understand what motivated us to leave you. _

_It isn't easy for us to do this. Natalia was adamant that we stayed, but eventually she agreed with me, albeit reluctantly. I want to stay as well, Ivan, but you know that we can't be kept away from Ukraine and Belarus forever. They are us, and we are inextricably bound to them. We can't stay away from them forever, and I think that our trip to Minsk was the wake up I needed. Seeing Natalia's reluctance to leave, it made me think of Kiev, and this insatiable hunger grew, this hunger to see my own country again. I knew that it would be a matter of time before you would not allow us to go, and really, this is my last resort. _

_I understand that the USSR is on rocky ground. And perhaps our leaving isn't the best thing to do at this moment, and for that I'm sorry._

_We'll see each other again, Ivan, this isn't the end. You will be angry with us, and that is something I can understand. I'm truly sorry for everything we've done to upset you, Ivan. I know that you crave affection, and the reassurance that someone will be there to look after you. You've never told me so yourself, but I can see. You fear abandonment, and that is exactly what we are doing, and it breaks my heart. _

_But this is all for the greater good, you'll see that one day. _

_We love you Ivan, never doubt that. We want you to be happy, and safe, and loved. And while what we have done may seem inexcusable right now, I only hope fervently that you can one day forgive us, and call us your sisters again. _

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**Would love some feedback ^_^**

**this isn't the end, i'm writing an epilogue...thing... :)  
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	4. Epilogue

**The long awaited epilogue! Well, not really long awaited, but you get my drift ^_^**

**I hope it's alright. I wanted some other nations interaction, and I hope i got it right. **

**Enjoy~**

**i have edited most of this as i realised there were some mistakes. thanks for the heads up about them ^_^  
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**Epilogue**

The days passed slowly. New Year came but was not celebrated, it was barely acknowledged, and it mildly shocked Ivan when he glanced at his calendar to realise it was the next year.

Without his sisters, the house was empty, quiet and far, far too large. There was nothing he could do to warm it up, there was always an abominable cold, and he found himself nearly permanently in his coat, his scarf hitched up tightly, as he tried to create the illusion that he wasn't so alone in the house.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, and Ivan found himself cursing it, scowling as it fell past his window.

There was once a point when he considered this gentle, delicate snow a beautiful sight to behold, but without his sisters, nothing held any beauty to him.

What did it matter anymore? Now that he was alone, nothing seemed important. He didn't quite know what motivated him to actually get up every morning, but he did, as if he wasn't controlling his own feet.

Katyusha's letter, the one that had caused so many tears, despite how Ivan had tried to hide them, had taken up residence on his bedside table, so it was the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning. He had placed it there, to serve as a constant reminder of what he had done. Not just to Katyusha and Natalia, but to Toris, Eduard and Raivis as well.

To so many people, and up until the point his sisters had left him, he was barely aware that he was doing it.

But now, the smiles, those sickening smiles that had only emerged when he heard Toris crying, they seemed filthy to him, and he wondered what had possessed him to act as he did.

However, as he glanced at himself in the mirror, trying to recreate that supposedly terrifying smile, he couldn't ignore how _natural _it looked on his face, how it fit in with the long, pale scarf and the gleaming metal pipe that was kept in the umbrella stand by the front door.

This, he eventually supposed, was what he was, and he couldn't do anything to change it. And he hated it, because it had driven away everyone he had ever loved, and it was no one's fault but his own.

He read that letter from Katyusha at least once a day. Sometimes, it was when he woke up, or when he was going to bed, or sometimes, he would feel himself gravitating to his room, to allow his eyes to skim across the page.

There was one line he hated perhaps the most.

_You'll be angry with us, and that is something I can understand._

Angry? At his sisters? Katyusha didn't know him as well as she thought.

Ivan knew there was nothing his sisters could do that would make him angry. He loved them far too much for that, even though Katyusha was too prone to bursting into tears, and Natalia was completely obsessed with him in a way that was just terrifying. They had their faults, but then again, so did he, and together, they formed some semblance of a family that worked.

And they did, they worked. No matter how worked up and agitated Natalia got, Katyusha was always there to calm her down. No matter how much Katyusha cried, Ivan was always there to put an arm around her shoulder, whispering comforting words. No matter how angry Ivan got, his eyes so clouded with rage he could barely see, his sisters were _always there, _albeit at the sidelines, watching with wide eyes, their mouths forming 'o' shapes. And sometimes, if they were feeling especially brave, one might call out, and Ivan's hand holding the pipe might stop, and Toris' cries would quieten. They worked. They helped each other. They relied on each other, but Ivan had not realised it until they had left, until it was too late.

Ivan would never be angry with his sisters because they had left him. Sad, yes. Lonely, definitely. But angry? He could hardly bear to think about it. He didn't want to be the one to put fear in the eyes of his siblings. As their brother, it was his job to make sure that fear never entered their eyes in the first place.

As with most things, however, he had failed with this, somewhere along the line.

Only a few days after his sisters' departure, when he was far too full of vodka to be able to think things through properly, he pondered the idea of being angry with his sisters. After all, they had left him. Their own flesh and blood, they had left like he meant nothing to them. They left him alone in that immense, cold, empty house that they knew he hated. They had left him _alone_. That thought resounded in his head for many hours afterwards.

Alone.

And he was. He still attended meetings with his increasingly desperate superiors, who were well aware that their precious Soviet Union was about to collapse. He still ate, slept, did meaningless paperwork. For the most part, his life carried on as normal. Except for the fact that Ivan refused to open his mouth and say anything, to anyone.

In meetings, he would sit at the back, tight lipped, guarded eyes surveying the room. The other men there had become quite disconcerted, and several had asked him questions, trying to break him out of his silence, but as the question was asked, the answer was delivered in the endless staring of his eyes, as he refused to say a word. He just sat, his arms folded over his chest, his breathing slow and steady. Many of the men in the room had to look away.

He felt like without his sisters, it was easier to retreat into himself, instead of having to face other people, who wouldn't understand him, who wouldn't care. He found it was better to stay quiet, to shut his face down, belaying none of the despair raging in his head.

It was, he decided early on, his biggest fear, to be left alone like this. it terrified him to the very core that every day he would wake up in that big, empty house, and stare out of the windows into the harsh, unforgiving world. He began to see shapes in the darkness, movement out of the corner of his eyes.

His house was so big, any intruder would have no problem hiding. Not that he couldn't take on any intruder, it was just the thought that there was someone unwelcome in his house. He began to hear things at night, creaks, clicking, and for the life of him he couldn't tell if it was the house settling in its foundations, the trees outside blowing in the wind, or soft footsteps in the halls.

It began to frighten him, because all of a sudden he was so uncertain of everything, and nothing seemed the same as it had before.

He was perfectly willing to withdraw completely from the world, and become a recluse, never leaving the house. He rather liked this plan, and probably would have carried it out, had he not received a message, telling him that Alfred F. Jones, America, the hero, was calling a Summit, and he was required to attend.

A good few nations had been invited, though perhaps that is the wrong word. Invited implied they had a choice in the matter. These meetings were always strange, always had an air about them that just wasn't right. Maybe it was because he was the nation that people were truly terrified of. They flinched in his presence, conversation died and the atmosphere became thick and suffocating, like perfume hanging in the air.

The morning of the meeting arrived suddenly, too quickly for his liking, and it was with reluctance that he got out of bed, got washed and dressed, and got into his car, to make the journey to Paris, where Alfred had called the meeting, much to Francis' grumblings.

Ivan was the last of the nations invited to arrive, and as he entered the room, it fell silent, and many pairs of eyes fell on him, wide and watchful. He blinked, and looked away hurriedly, taking his seat beside Arthur. He didn't miss how Arthur tensed, and stared down at the papers in front of him intently, so as not to accidentally look at Ivan. This Summit seemed to have less people attending than any other time, Ivan couldn't see his sisters, or any Baltics. He scanned the room, looking at the people averting his gaze, and noticed that the Nordics and most of Asia weren't even present. He figured that this meeting didn't hold a lot of significance, and he wished he had stayed in bed.

Ivan listened to Alfred talk, half paying attention, half wondering how Katyusha was doing. He wondered if Toris still had nightmares about him. He wondered if he was happy with Feliks Łukasiewicz. He wondered if Natalia was still as obsessed with him.

All of a sudden, he chuckled, because it would be a sight to behold if Natalia no longer proposed to him daily. At the sound of his soft laughter, Alfred fell silent, looking at him with impatience in his blue eyes. "You got something to say, Braginski?" He raised an eyebrow, eager to launch back into his speech.

Ivan's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, choosing his words carefully. It must have been _days _since he had last spoken to someone. It almost felt like no words would even come out if he tried to speak. "No." He said eventually. His voice sounded strange to him, unfamiliar. "Nothing. Continue." And that order, no matter how softly spoken, caused Alfred to frown nervously, and he shuffled the papers in his hand awkwardly, clearing his throat before continuing in a somewhat timid tone.

What Alfred was saying was barely registering in Ivan's mind, he was staring down at his hands, that were folding and unfolding on the table. This meeting, whatever it was about, was going exceedingly well, he noticed. It seemed that what Alfred was saying held some semblance of a good idea, because Arthur had yet to interrupt, scolding him as he was prone to doing. The green eyed man was listening to what Alfred was saying, writing down notes occasionally, much like the remaining nations. Ivan, however, simply sat there, feeling detached from the room, from his own body. He felt like a ghost, who had wandered in to observe proceedings. He closed his eyes, trying to conjure up pictures of him and his sisters in happier times.

Again, he became aware of the silence. He hurriedly opened his eyes, and looked at Alfred, who had stopped talking, but this time he had a concerned look on his face, and Ivan was rather startled to realise that Arthur, Francis and Yao, who were sitting nearest to him, did as well.

"Are you alright, Braginski?" Alfred asked, leaning forwards slightly.

Ivan was caught off guard. "I…" This was wrong, this was _wrong, _he knew it. Only his sister, his dear Katyusha, only she was allowed to care about him like this. Natalia, too, if it took her fancy, but it had always been Katyusha who had inquired as to his happiness and his wellbeing.

But, now that she was no longer around, the task had fallen to other people, people who were reluctant to go within a ten mile radius of Ivan, but who had to, because they had been ordered by their respective bosses. And that thought stung. Ivan closed his eyes again. "I'm fine." He eventually said.

"You don't look fine." Arthur said. "You're very pale. Are you ill?"

Ivan shook his head, suddenly despising the feeling of all those eyes on him. "No. I'm always pale."

"Not this pale." Francis proclaimed from across the table. The others nodded in agreement. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ivan's hand curled into a fist on the table, an action that was not missed by the others. "I'm _fine._" He shot a defiant look at Alfred. "Carry on with your speech. Don't pay any attention to me."

"Right." Alfred said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "I…er, right."

Thus the meeting continued, until eventually, Alfred was finished, and the others began to pack up. Arthur went over to talk with Francis, Yao was talking with Alfred. Germany, who had been sat at the other side of him, left first, eager to get an annoyingly cheerful Italy out of the room. Others filed out as well, each one colourful, with bright, sparkling personalities, and people who loved them. Ivan stood on the sidelines, on the perimeter, watching the other nations, who had yet to leave, converse normally. He closed his briefcase suddenly, decisively, with a loud click. Yao noticed, and held out a hand to silence Alfred. He complied and followed Yao's eyes, until the both of them were looking at Ivan.

Yao came over to him suddenly, and Ivan felt himself panicking, unwilling to let anyone intrude on his personal space. "You are missing your sisters." Yao said in a soft voice. It wasn't a question, he knew well enough, but Ivan, eventually, nodded nonetheless.

Alfred came up and stood next to Yao, the both of them scrutinizing him with unreadable expressions. "You shouldn't be so afraid." Alfred said eventually. "You'll see them again."

Ivan cursed under his breath and scowled the tiniest bit. It was easy to hide the reason for his unhappiness from his superiors and his boss, because they were only human. But these men before him, they were nations, and it was like they could see right into his soul, pinpoint his fears and spread them out on a stone slab for everyone to see. He nodded, eventually, realising he needed to give some sort of response. "Da." He said. With a last, cursory nod by means of a goodbye, effectively cutting off the conversation, he left, and before too long he was on the road, heading out of Paris, out of France, towards his home.

As he drove, his hands were clenched tightly around the steering wheel. Beneath his gloves, his knuckles were white. "Damn them." He said, slipping out of English and into his beloved Russian. "Damn them!" He suddenly cried, loud enough that he would have shocked someone, had they been riding in the car with him. "How dare they tell me what to do!" There was silence for a few moments as he glared at the road ahead of him. "I'm not afraid!" It was a faint protestation to what Alfred had said, but Ivan knew it was a lie, and had Alfred been there with him, he would have, too.

By the time he was back in Moscow, the sun was setting, and his shadows were long as he stalked through the corridors of his house, wanting something to do, so he would be less inclined to start crying again.

Despite his protests, Alfred had gotten it in one, Ivan _was _afraid, he had always been terrified that one day, everything he loved would leave him. And that is just what had happened, and because of it, Ivan was miserable, inconsolable, terrified that he would end his days just as alone as he was at that moment.

He settled on the sofa in the living room, his hands pressed against his eyes, frowning viciously. His hands were clenched into fists, and every now and again his fingernails would tug at his skin, almost painfully, but he didn't do anything, because there was suddenly an overwhelming feeling of despair and loneliness seizing him, and he couldn't do anything about it.

He knew that somewhere, out there, in the big wide world, his sisters were slowly getting their countries back on their feet, starting to make their own ways in the world as independent countries. His sisters were so far away, and he wanted them back, because he loved them and he needed them, and it scared him to be away from them. And suddenly, seeing the others surviving so well on their own, it made it so much more clear to Ivan, how incapable he was.

Incapable of being apart from the people he loved, the people he needed. This was his weakness, and he despised himself for it.

He retired to his bed, but as expected, he got very little sleep.

The next morning, to his mild surprise, it was raining, the raindrops hitting against his window weakly, waking him from his sleep he'd somehow managed to acquire in the early hours of the morning.

He stared up at the ceiling, decided that he hated the dull grey light that was filling the room. Vaguely, he heard a noise, a clicking noise.

He dismissed it as the house, settling in its foundations, or perhaps just an illusion of his sleep deprived brain. He rolled over onto his side, no longer having the energy, the will nor the inclination to get up. He stared out of the window, watching the rain fall, its constant hum filling the room.

_Click._

There was that noise again, and Ivan's ears perked up a bit. This was not an invention of his mind, this was real, and he wasn't sure it was just the house settling. He sat up in bed, before swinging his legs over the side and getting up with a sigh. He pulled on his dressing gown, tying it tightly around his waist. Rubbing his eyes, he left the room, sticking his head out into the empty corridor, to see if he could see anything or hear anything strange.

_Creak_.

He knew that noise. It was on the staircase, the third step from the top. It creaked, meaning someone was definitely coming up the stairs. Panic gripped him for a moment, before he remembered he was six feet tall and as strong as his immensely large country. He stood his ground, waiting for the intruder to round the corner and come face to face with him.

The footsteps were light, barely audible, but Ivan could hear them as they came closer.

And suddenly, the figure turned the corner, and Ivan drew in a ragged breath, because Natalia, Belarus, _his little sister_ was standing there, her hair dripping wet and plastered to her face from the rain.

"Natalia?" Ivan's voice was quiet, disbelieving.

"Brother." She said, just as softly.

Suddenly, she rushed into his arms, and though the wetness of her clothes and hair permeated his own garments, he didn't care, and he held her tightly, hardly daring believe this was real, lest he wake suddenly in the middle of the night to find this was just a cruel dream. "Natalia." He said again. "What are you doing here?"

She looked up at him, her blue eyes so painfully familiar, and it was with painful realisation that Ivan saw a shine of something in her eyes, and it wasn't recognisable to him because it seemed almost…healthy. That shine meant that Belarus was getting back on it's feet, Natalia was getting healthier, happier, stronger. It pained Ivan to think he was never able to make her like this. "What am I doing here?" She said eventually. "I've missed you, so much. It was Katyusha's idea to leave, you know. I wanted to stay, and I'm so, so sorry we left you." She held him tighter for a second. "Sorry. I didn't answer your question." Silence, as if she was mulling it over. "I came back to see you."

"Really?" Ivan said, finally releasing her, allowing her to take a few steps back. His vision was oddly blurry, and he suddenly realised it was because tears were filling his eyes, and he blinked hurriedly, embarrassed to be seen like this in front of his little sister.

"Yes." Natalia said, obviously not having noticed her brother's tears.

Ivan beamed at her, and it was his first real smile in many, many weeks. He strode down the hall suddenly and descended the stairs, two at a time, finding her suitcase by the front door. He brought it up for her, and she smiled graciously. "This isn't very heavy." Ivan commented, and Natalia nodded, her smile fading somewhat.

"Yes, I can only stay for a couple of days. I hope you understand…" She trailed off awkwardly, looking at him uncertainly.

His smile vanished, the joy in his eyes dimmed a little, but he nodded. "Of course I understand. It's fine, Natalia."

She tilted her head to the side, smiling. "I'm so glad to hear it."

And so, the day started, and this time, Ivan wasn't alone, he had his little sister, and although she had proposed to him three times in the space of four hours, Ivan was happy.

His heart had broken a little to realise that this was only a temporary visit, and that she would eventually return to her own country. Despite this, Ivan smiled, and he talked with her, and he laughed with her, because even if Katyusha was absent, and Natalia was only there for a few days, it was enough. This was so much more than what he deserved. He had been given a second chance, an opportunity to atone for his sins, and make it up to his sister.

And Ivan felt blessed because of it.

Days, weeks, months went by, as they do. And Natalia came and went so frequently that Ivan wondered how he had never noticed before, that shimmering devotion that shone through as she smiled at him, a smile void of lust and want. It was a sisterly, caring, beautiful smile, and it become more and more frequent as the days passed.

Ivan, for the most part, was wonderfully cheerful, in high spirits and full of a cautious optimism, a secret hoping that maybe, _maybe, _things would be like how they once were.

Natalia spent as long as she could with him, arriving in the early hours of the morning, leaving in the dead of night a few days later. Sometimes, her visits were short, her superior calling her back, allowing her only to stay overnight. But sometimes, when her boss was feeling especially generous, he granted her leave, and brother and sister spent a good few blissful days lost in their own naivety.

They talked about everything, only avoiding things that they both knew would upset Ivan. Neither mentioned Katyusha, neither mentioned Lithuania, Estonia or Latvia. Neither talked about the bad things, and they focussed solely on the good, the happy, the cheerful.

And despite the fact that Ivan still felt so lonely, and despite the fact that Natalia's laughs were strained and her smiles slightly forced, they were happy, because even though it had seemed like their worlds had crumbled around them, they had found solace in each other, a little haven containing just the two of them, safe in each other's presence.

Of course, Ivan knew he could never remain in this paradise forever. Reality was harsh and sudden, and in Natalia's absences he found that he felt incomplete, as if he was missing a limb. There was so much to do, to rebuild. So much turmoil to smooth over, in the hopes that Russia could emerge from the wreckage of what was once the Soviet Union, a strong and proud nation. Ivan knew it would take some time, as all things do, but he was nothing if not patient, and he knew he could wait until the day that Katyusha would willingly return to his door, just dropping by, and take him out for a coffee.

Alfred still called meetings, and Ivan still attended, and Arthur, Francis and Yao still gave him worried looks when they thought Alfred wouldn't notice and overreact, as he was prone to doing. In these conferences, Ivan felt like Alfred had done it purposely, because it was like they wanted some nostalgia, to revel in some familiar, comfortable memories, because when they had been the Allied Forces, they had worked, and now, when they were just their own nations, they seemed to gravitate to each other. They sat together and worked together and discussed things together, because after having spent so much time with each other, they relied upon one another to help them cope with the strain that came with being a nation. And although Arthur had Sealand, and Alfred had Canada, and Yao had numerous family members, they all made time for each other, and although they loved and hated, and their emotions were as fluid as water, they never seemed to despise being near each other. And Ivan had never noticed it until then.

When he noticed them staring, it annoyed Ivan, to some extent, but there was a little voice in his head that spoke up, telling him that they _cared _about him, in their own, twisted ways, because they themselves were not without problems.

He figured that these problems, these eccentricities, these oddities, they were what kept the nations going, because, had they been sane, rational people, they would have died out long ago, grudges sour on their tongues, bullets bitter in their chests.

And these people, these Allies, as they once were, with their hero complexes and their hallucinations, they _cared _about Ivan, they looked past his violence and his cruelty, just as he looked past their own failings. These four were the closest he was going to get to having friends, and he figured he could do worse.

"All right. That about sums things up. Any questions?" Alfred's voice was annoyingly chipper, considering the sweltering summer heat and the broken ceiling fan.

"No." Arthur snapped. "Can we go home yet? I want to get into the freezer and go to sleep."

Francis chuckled, and the sound was muffled, as he had his arms crossed on the table, his head buried in them. His hair was pooling on the table, and Arthur simply batted his hand in Francis' direction, dismissing his remark.

There was silence for a moment, suffocating and pregnant with words wanting to be spoken, but finding it was just _too damn hot_. "I can't take this any more, aru." Yao moaned, running a hand over his face, his eyes closed.

Alfred nodded, sinking back down into his chair, the top two buttons of his shirt undone in the hopes it would help him cool down. "Arthur, can't you do anything? This is your country, making it cooler."

Arthur's eyes closed. Eventually he spoke. "I don't think I've heard anything more ridiculous. I'm the country, not the fucking weather."

Francis laughed again, and Alfred sighed. "Alright, whatever, man." Alfred said, standing up, aimlessly shoving pieces of paper into his briefcase. They crumpled and bent, but he didn't seem to care. "I'm off back to the hotel. It has air conditioning."

Yao agreed, sluggishly gathering his belongings in order to leave with Alfred. Francis finally raised his head from the table and did the same. Arthur remained where he was, content on seeing them all out before heading back home. He watched them all, before his disconcertingly green eyes flashed over to Ivan, where they lingered.

Ivan was sitting there, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, fiddling with the sleeves of his coat. Despite the heat, he had refused to take it off, including the scarf, however he had undone the buttons, so it hung from his shoulders, pooling at his sides. He was warm, there was no denying, but he wasn't prepared to take off his clothes, as Alfred and Francis seemed so happy doing.

Ivan was sure Alfred had done this on purpose. After all, it was only the five of them. Although it was no longer the time of the World Wars, Alfred had decided that a conference with just the five of them would be beneficial, and Ivan was inclined to believe that it certainly wasn't doing any harm. It felt nice, sitting next to Yao, with Arthur and Francis sat across from him, Alfred gesticulating wildly as he talked, his glasses nearly sliding off his nose with his enthusiasm. It was almost like the old days, when Russia had been powerful, and the others had been happy to call him their ally.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked suddenly, making Alfred, Yao and Francis pause and look at him, personal space ignored in the small room with just the five of them.

"Nothing." Ivan said. "Just wondering when my flight is."

"Oh, are you flying out today?" Arthur stood up grabbing the coat that was slung over the back of his chair. "I assumed you'd be staying another night."

"Nyet." Ivan said, shaking his head lightly. "I've got a lot of work to do. My boss insisted that I returned as soon as I could." Arthur nodded his understanding, finally ready to leave, ushering Francis out of the door.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye. I'm driving this stupid frog to King's Cross, so we've got to get going, lest we miss his train." Francis grinned at him, glad he was being a disturbance, and allowed himself to be dragged from the room and down the corridor, towards where Arthur's car was parked, some floors below them on the pavement.

Alfred and Yao stood side by side, watching Ivan, who was still sat at the table. "Ivan?" Yao asked. "Are you going?"

Ivan nodded eventually, getting slowly to his feet, towering over the both of them. Alfred's eyes widened fractionally. "I could give you a lift to the airport, if you want it." Alfred asked, his fear seemingly gone.

Ivan opened his mouth to say something, but he faltered. Alfred was treating him like an equal, like a friend. He was willing to do something for him, a favour, of his own free will, not a chore, not something he dreaded. It was strange, Ivan decided. Eventually, he realised he needed to give a reply. "No, thank you, Alfred. I've got a hire car that I need to return."

He didn't smile, but he nodded at the two nations cordially, and he left, making his way along the corridor that Arthur and Francis had left via. "See ya!" Alfred called, and this time a smile did slip onto Ivan's face, because it was nice to think that people would notice his absence, miss him, even.

That night, many, many hours later, Ivan lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was bizarre to think that he was being affected by these people so much. He had done so much to them, he had made so many mistakes, and yet they were willing to forgive him and move on, and accept him as their friend.

For so many years, Ivan had had Katyusha and Natalia; he had no need for friends. But now that his sisters were gone, and only one was visiting him, he had suddenly welcomed these four nations into his life, willing to let them talk with him, laugh with him, as if they were his family.

They were all nations, after all. Maybe they were all just one big family.

It took a while for Ivan to be seen by the other nations as a respectable country. He had committed crimes, done things that were disreputable, and for those sins, his mighty empire had fallen, leaving him with nothing. He worked hard to rebuild what he had, but with different morals, different goals. He had changed, and everyone knew it. He was still intimidating and cruel, still naïve and childish. But, this time, there was less malice in his smiles, less hate in his eyes. And although it shone through every now and again, for the most part it was barely visible.

He was no longer the head of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, a monster to be feared and hated by so many people. Now, he was just Russia, someone to be respected, someone who advice could be sought from. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics and done so many bad things made so many people hurt. But now, that Soviet conglomeration was gone, and in it's place was a boy with pale blonde hair, violet eyes, soft features.

He wore a coat and a scarf, and on occasion he carried with him a metal pipe. He had two sisters, one older and one younger than he. He liked vodka. He liked sunflowers. He liked vast empty plains, mountains rising out of the horizon, glimmers of snow at their peaks, glinting vaguely in the light of a setting sun.

This was who he was. It took him a long time to realise all this, but when he did, he knew he was Russia, and Russia was him, and the two were interwoven, never to be separated. He decided that he wanted to be known as Ivan, not Ivan the communist, not Ivan, the one keeping Baltic countries in his basement. He wanted to be Ivan, just Ivan, because that was all he was, it was all he had left.

And it would take an even longer amount of time, but sooner or later, the others would see him as Ivan, just Ivan, too.

* * *

**END.**

**i hope it didn't suck. kindly review, and get a cookie. or some vodka. or both~**

**~~Allie xx**


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